ʀᴇᴅ + ʙʟᴜᴇ (𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣! 𝙒𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)

─𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

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"𝐈'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞"

"𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞..."

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"What are you painting, Wally? You've been looking very focused for a while now". Said a soft voice to the tanned man, stopping knitting a sweater and coming to Wally's side, who was calmly painting on a canvas. "A simple portrait, nothing very special, Poppy". He answered without looking at the older woman, continuing to slide the brush with gentle movements. The multicolored haired woman paid attention to the image and opened her eyes.

"Woah! My dear, that's a beautiful painting". She cheered with a big smile, observing every possible detail of the painting in progress, amazed by the process and the curious colors, "You never cease to amaze me! You have a great talent in those hands". Wally put down his brush and palette of colors, looking at Poppy with his characteristic smile, "Thanks, Poppy. It's a painting I've been working on for a long time, for some reason I kept thinking about it, so I decided to finally put it into a painting". He explained, admiring his own work, still planning on the next brushstrokes he would give.

They both remained silent, admiring the painting process. Until Poppy noticed a small detail.

"Uhm... Wally, can you tell me who you are painting? So far, I realize it's no one from the neighborhood". She tilted her head, glancing sideways at Wally, who was still looking at his work. "I don't even know his name myself. It's just that this face appeared in my dreams, and I couldn't stop thinking about him". He explained with a slight change in the tanned man's voice, his voice almost a whisper, the last with a slightly dreamy tone. Poppy smiled at those words, opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted.

Knock Knock Knock!

The sound of someone knocking at the door interrupted the thoughts of both of them, who turned at the same time to the door.

"Oh, it's Howdy with my stamens that I asked for yesterday. I'll be back in a moment". She walked quickly to the door, leaving Wally alone, who went back to looking at his painting.

He keeps every line of the painting in his mind, enraptured by his work done with his own hands. He left his brush and palette of colors on a small table beside him. His nose caught the smell of fresh paint.

He had not finished this painting, but he was already delighted with it. He was putting all his effort into every brushstroke. He knew that if he kept it up, he would succeed in painting a work of art. He was certain of it.

That face had not freed him from the spiral caused by it. Completely hypnotized, he fell very easily under the spell of such a siren. From the first time they intertwined their gazes, he knew there was no turning back.

Without realizing it, his pupils, now dilated, seemed to eat such an artwork with their eyes. Nor did he notice how his body moved closer to the unfinished canvas in front of him, let alone how his head came within dangerous distance of those lips that he himself painted so delicately.

He came close enough to kiss the fresh paint, he gave a small kiss where the lips are. As if it were a kiss with a real person, he did it with delicacy and tenderness that when he parted apart, he left his lips inked in red and blue. The wet sensation on his lips made him grab some paint with his hands.

When he removed this paint from his mouth, he looked at his hand, a blue and red stain half combined between his fingers. It cost nothing more than to rub these together to turn them into a beautiful shade of purple.

A smile came over him, a different one from the one he always showed. It revealed his teeth in a wide, sharp grin. There were no words to express his excitement. He could no longer wait.

So much so that when he arrived with Home, alone and without eyes on him. He could not avoid leaving the mark of his hand on the other's face, colored red.