Burning love
The Jon Dondon x female reader nobody asked for. Jon is very OOC.
They had met in an Art gallery.
Y/N had won free invitations thanks to a stupid contest on the internet. She didn't really know much about Art, except that it was either beautiful or ugly, interesting or very boring, complicated or terribly simple.
The exhibition included works by several very different artists, so she had been able to admire Art in all its forms.
It was then that she was admiring an abstract painting that Jon came to talk to her.
Quite honestly, he confessed to her later that he had thought she was the artist, or at least an artist, that he could have recruited for his agency, but he was happy to have spoken to her anyway.
They had discussed the work, Jon asking her what she thought of it, and Y/N answering that she didn't really know. She couldn't tell what it represented, or if she liked it.
"Well, I guess that's a good sign that it doesn't leave me indifferent."
"What do you mean ?" Jon asked, raising an eyebrow, puzzled.
"Well, there are a lot of paintings that you see without looking at them. Without it marking you, and which you almost immediately forget. You think, 'yes, not bad', but nothing more. Here, I believe that I don't like it, because it makes me uncomfortable, but at the same time I don't hate it, there is something... It's hard to explain."
"And that's a very good explanation of what Art should produce in people. Are you free tonight ?"
Very quickly, Y/N got to know Jon, but also to know Jon Dondon. It wasn't the same thing.
Jon knew how to be gentle, kind. He wasn't very good at socializing, but he really tried. Jon Dondon was thinking above all about his work and his reputation.
Always very honestly, Jon told her from the start that he didn't want anyone to know that they were together. He wasn't ashamed of her, he had no reason to be ashamed of her, but in the Art world you had to look available, detached, free and he had a few rivals who might use her against him, or try to hurt him through her.
In addition, he liked this separation between his work and his private life. She was like his secret, something he had only for himself. He stopped seeing other people, but he wanted to give the impression that he was able to have fun whenever he wanted.
It was difficult, but Y/N really liked Jon, so she accepted this situation, behaving like a stranger or a simple friend when they saw each other in public.
This lasted until the Dease paintings were exhibited.
Jon had asked her to come with him to give him her opinion, because even if he was an Art critic, he considered that she had more talent than him for these things. With Y/N's vision, his influence in the industry, and his gift for the right turns of phrase, he could quickly tell if this new artist had value or not.
As every time they collaborated, they separated to explore the rooms, before meeting in front of a canvas to discuss their impressions.
The tour was very quick for Jon, who was captivated by what he saw, like everyone else in the exhibition. Everyone except Y/N. She stopped at the first painting near the entrance, and didn't move until Jon joined her.
"So ? Your verdict ?"
"... You have to burn these things."
"... What ?"
"Jon. These things need to be burned." Y/N whispered again, shaking, totally frightened.
"Jon Dondon, please. And why do you say that ?"
She was unable to explain what she felt to Jon, and she didn't think he would have been able to understand, but there was something wrong with those paintings. Oh, they were very beautiful, very well done, but there was something else, dark, stale.
Of course, Jon doesn't write that in his article, just saying like all the other reviewers that Dease's work was intriguing.
He remembered all the same what had happened, deciding to carry out some research on the subject of the artist. But it was more because one of his rivals, Morf, seemed very troubled in Dease, and Jon was very keen to discredit him by finding something compromising.
It was pretty clear the day Y/N came home and came face to face with one of the artist's paintings. Jon had bought it because, as a good Art critic, he had to own at least one work by fashionable artists.
She stayed in the hallway, staring at the canvas, until he realized she was there.
"You really don't like it ?" he chuckled without malice. "I thought a simple painting might be fine. A little weird, like all of his work, but appropriate. I think they look like us."
The canvas depicted a man and a woman. A couple. The colors were cold, dull, they had no face, standing, the man looking at the woman, who was looking at the viewer. She seemed sad, as if she was trying to run away.
Y/N didn't feel that. In any case, she didn't want to feel that. Sometimes, with Jon Dondon, it happened. But not with Jon.
"... No, it doesn't."
"If you say so. Anyway, if it's not us, it's ours."
"It's yours. If it was mine, I'd burn it."
They didn't argue. They never argued, Jon always thought he was right, and Y/N didn't see the point of trying to change his mind. She just ignored the canvas, going in and out of the house as fast as she could without looking at it. She sometimes had the impression that it was looking at her.
It was difficult. That, and the secrets, and Jon's behavior, began to rub off on her. Slowly, she felt like she was being drained of her joy, of her passion, of her life. As if she entered this cursed painting that she was trying to ignore.
As always, Jon saw nothing, continuing his research and his work. He had hired a private investigator to investigate Dease and he proudly claimed that he was going to find something soon, he felt it. Y/N sensed that something terrible was going to happen.
She decided to tell him, while they were at his office.
"Jon, I think..."
"Jon Dondon, please." he said, like every time they were in public.
"Don't go to your meeting with that detective. I have a bad feeling."
"I paid a fortune for it, and I hope to have results."
"Jon..."
"Jon Dondon."
"You..."
Y/N couldn't finish her sentence, struggling not to cry. It had been years since she had cried. Not once since she had met Jon, who despite his many faults made her very happy. He finally turned to her, and he seemed to see her. Really see her.
But something had broken, and she left without adding anything, leaving him alone.
At home, she stopped to observe the painting. The feeling was still the same as the first time, oppressive, bad. Y/N didn't want to think about it, occupying her mind by doing the housework and the dishes, which was useless, since Jon had a maid for that.
Lost far away, she didn't jump when a head rested on her shoulders, arms surrounding her gently.
"You ate ?" Jon asked, looking at the plate she had been cleaning for ten minutes.
"Have you been to your appointment ?"
"No. Tell me what's going on."
"Because you care now, Jon Dondon ? Why ? I've been telling you for weeks that something's wrong. But you don't listen, you don't see. You don't care, like you don't care about Art. The important thing is the appearance. The fame. The money. I know that's why you don't want us to be seen together, admit it. You're ashamed of me. You do not love me."
"I do love you."
"Really ? You saw a painting of an unhappy couple, a desperate woman, and you thought of us. Of me. Wonderful."
Jon didn't answer, his head still resting on her shoulder. Slowly, he took the plate from her hands, before turning her to face him. He looked at her eyes for a long time, as if searching for something.
"What can I do ?"
"Burn this painting. Forget this artist." she begged him one last time.
Silence returned to the house. Jon continued to stare at her, before looking at the entrance, where the canvas was. Without saying a word, he then left the kitchen, and Y/N was convinced that he had chosen. She was going to have to leave.
But Jon reappeared with a little metal box and matches. He took the canvas, placed it in the fireplace, sprinkled it with the contents of the box and set the fire without the slightest hesitation.
The flames reflected in his glasses, dancing close to him, but he didn't move, admiring his handiwork.
Not daring to believe what was happening, Y/N approached, equally fascinated by this spectacle, feeling all the fear and despair coming out of her. She couldn't help smiling as she looked at Jon.
"Jon... Jon...Thank you."
"You were right, it had to be burned."
"Are you sure ?"
"You're better at these things than I am. I'll... I'll tell the detective he can stop looking. I'll take some vacation too. We could go to Europe, or somewhere else. Spend some time together. I feel like we need it."
"Jon..." Y/N sighed, jumping on him to kiss him.
They were far away when they learned about the series of suspicious deaths that happened to all those who had participated directly or indirectly in the sale of Dease's paintings. For a moment they wondered if the same fate would befall them.
But Y/N still didn't know anything about Art, except how it made her feel, and Jon had decided to change his approach, trying to better understand the artists. Even if they weren't perfect, they had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, and Dease seemed to know it.
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