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WORD COUNT: 4726
something is missing.
your paint—stained acrylics trace the canvas, one dainty finger overlapping the bursts of colours sprawled across it. you start to feel yourself getting heated (literally) at the lack of knowledge on what to do for the finishing touches of this painting. a wooden chair is propped in the corner of the studio, slanted to align with the view of the street from the apartment you share with your boyfriend, ethan.
ethan grant dolan.
boyfriend of eight months. pretty solid thing you and him have going on. no complaints, he's good in the bedroom and showers you with all your material dreams. he was eager for you to meet his family who were very welcoming and was very polite and chatty when meeting yours. funny, caring, tender, gentle, assertive, outspoken. he's the man you fell in love with and he has all you've ever wanted.
ethan's white shirt is now covered in splatters of red, brown and orange due to your painting. you know he wouldn't mind, though. he's humorously remarked something about it being like you 'marking your territory' which did cause an unwanted laugh on your behalf.
even with the window spread all the way open, ethan's shirt hanging off of your shoulder and oversized to the point where the air of the fan in front of you should be flowing and creating some kind of protectant from the heat — it doesn't.
a dramatic hand is lifted to your forhead, which is lined with beads of sweat. you flick your thick dark hair behind your shoulders just as the floorboards creek.
an inquisitive head almost identical to ethan's pokes around the door. but it's not ethan's; it's grayson's.
"hey (y/n). you good?"
you nod, pinching your shirt and pulling it back and forth to get some air circulation.
"just hot. how comes you're here?"
grayson took a while to answer. he knew you were hot. and that damn fan wasn't helping either; pushing your hair away from your defined cheeks and making your hair flow like it does in those commercials. he admired your typical looks that he thought you wore so well. brown eyes that weren't just brown, but somehow a mixture of both light and dark. freckles scattered all over your teeny nose and stopping at your plump pink lips which weren't big but own a round shape. he loved every crevice of your face, and away from that he took in your defined collarbones and thick thighs that were propped up on the chair you sat on so peacefully.
"gray?"
you called his name out and he shook his head a little with a strange absent look and raked a hand through his short hair.
"just visiting that annoying brother of mine and his annoying girlfriend."
you roll your eyes. you'd normally have the energy to laugh at something like that but just can't find it in you today because of this heat. grayson gets the message and leaves you alone, sweating and frustrated in the room.
