"Perfection goes a long way, yet you? You don't make the cut my dear,"
It began with a slight accident regarding Silverspoon getting a huge crack on his head, what seemed like a minor inconvenience spawned and dragged into a huge problem. Soon there...
Paintbrush stood idle, the clashing of words circling around them like hungry vultures. Fan hovered over the body, taking in the scene and taking pictures, which honestly disgusted Painty.
There was a heavy brewing dread pooling in their stomach, ingesting the words of the hotel guests and staff, tears pricked their eyes as they inhaled and exhaled quite heavily.
Their body shook as they dashed to the kitchen sink, hurling their insides out while Fan followed to help. Paintbrush sobbed quite violently, after washing away the contents and cleaning their face, they fell to their knees.
Everyone seemed confused and worried, Soap quickly coming up to check if any of the contents had spilt and seemingly noting in her mind to scrub the sink later, before asking if there was anything she could do.
Paintbrush looked up, their slightly rosy eyes just staring blankly. "Where's Silver?"
"Huh?" Paper piped up, looking around before shaking his head. "Uhm not here? Why?-"
"Find him."
Tea-kettle pushed up to the front with the other four. "Now dear, why would we-"
"Find Silverspoon," Paintbrush stood up, their towering height seemingly to play into the sense of demanding energy. "We need to find him,"
Fan spaced out for a minute before coming to the same conclusion. "YES! We have to find Silverspoon!"
The group of guests and staff wandered to Silverspoon's room, the door's handle seeming quite scratched and beaten up, which is really not in character for him.
Paintbrush and Fan stood in front of the group, a quivering Goo coming to stand with them before they opened the door.
Right away, the smell of metallic blood and death filled the hallway, Painty shivered before they went inside.
Right away, there was a body laying sideways below the window.
Silverspoon laid in a pool of his own blood, unmoving. His coat was left on one of the beds and a glove right by his head, the glistening silver material of his body seemed to be oh so dull, however the massive bite marks, wounds and chunks of flesh on his body broke that illusion.
Paintbrush stood over him, staring blankly at the man on the floor.
Slowly their tears started again and the drops fell from their face onto the body, rippling into the blood puddle.
The hours pass one by one, different objects coming in and out to pay their respects to the dead. However, Painty stayed sitting near the corpse just staring, trying to make sense of it.
Soap and Paper approached behind them, clearly worried.
"Paintbrush, Uhm we have to get rid of the corpse and uh deep clean the room," Paper said apologetically, seemingly gliding to the bed and picking up the coat. "I'm really sorry but you have to leave... uhm, but you could take Silver's coat! I know you two were close,"
Paintbrush nodded glumly, grasping onto the outstretched offering. Feeling the familiar fabrics of the coat did help them feel a bit better, slowly taking steps to the door.
One last time, Paintbrush glanced back to their friend before dipping their head and going through the door.
The hotel seemed so quiet with Silverspoon gone. Guests were moving out of Paintbrush's way and whispering around them, it slightly annoyed the grieving enby.
Closing the door to their shared room's bathroom, Painty just stared at themselves in the mirror. They quickly threw on the coat and flattened the collar a bit, just helplessly staring and taking in the image.
There was a rustle of papers from the pocket, which Paintbrush quickly found and looked at.
A letter addressed to them.
To (Hopefully) Paintbrush,
I feel I must apologise for everything I've done to you, even if you don't realise it yet. I don't really know where to begin, if I'm being honest.
My dear, I admit I've always had an infatuation with you. Call it a crush, call it just admiration. They all just mean what I've felt about you. It started becoming a big thing after I got the crack on my head. I never truly wanted to tell you since everything started happening and the dread of knowing I'd be leaving soon.
I am the murderer. You will be the only one to know. And I trust you not to tell.
This is not a confession letter and I can't really explain why I did everything I did. Just know that I always kept you in mind, I did this for you.
I want you to know that I love you, and I always will. Even if you hate me for this.
I want you to have the coat, as long as you want to. I don't want to be forgotten and I don't deserve to be forgiven. If there's any weapon in the pockets, please don't do anything with it, just discard it and forget about it.
I love you, Paintbrush. I'm just sorry you had to find out this way.
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Paintbrush placed the letter onto the counter, staring up at the mirror.
Almost unconsciously, they searched the coat with their hands for a hidden weapon.
In one of the pockets, a craft razor was found.
Grasping the yellow handle, Paintbrush rolled up a sleeve and impulsively cut deeply on the back of their wrist. Painty hissed at the pain yet seemed extremely fixated on the now released blood. They dabbed their other hand in the blood and wiped it across their face.
Paintbrush's face was covered in blood. And honestly? They could get used to this.
Silverspoon loved them, and left them with the materials to do this. That made the brush giddy, stupidly grinning and looking at themselves in the mirror with a look of absolute lovesickness.
