19 | CAN YOU PAINT WITH ALL THE COLORS OF THE WIND?
smoke fills the air as jaren sits down, biting at his finger nails. the gray remnants of fire appear above his house and immediately remind him of john. he brews himself a cup of coffee, heading over to the other boy in the living room.
"david, what the hell are you even talking about?" jaren asks, cutting off the boy's rambling. he hands david a cup of tea, letting out a sigh.
"i don't know! how the hell am i supposed to figure out what to say when i can't even figure out my feelings?" david spits out, pulling at his hair with so much force that jaren is scared the boy will rip it out. silence falls over the room, getting caught in his throat and forcing him to shut his mouth.
"sometimes it isn't about knowing what you're feeling, david. it's about being able to recognize that you actually feel something for someone else," jaren reminisces, thinking of john and all the good times they shared. he still doesn't know if the boy and him were in love, or rather just a fling.
john and jaren were never perfect with each other but he thought they could make it work in the end. he really did.
"ever since he held my hand that day, i haven't felt the same," david admits, sinking farther into the chair and sipping on his tea, "we can't be together; we're best friends."
"if lui grabbed your hand, then that probably means he likes you too. evan and jonathan were best friends too; they're together now," jaren says, looking at david with a soft smile. the boy returns the smile, picking up his stuff and walking towards the door.
"thanks for this, jaren. i'm going to talk to lui about these feelings tomorrow," david awkwardly mumbles, opening the door and walking out.
leaving jaren to fight all the demons by himself.
🍂
there's something soft and subtle about his brush strokes. he carefully runs the paint over the canvas, causing an explosion of colors to land on the formerly white tapestry. he wipes of the excess paint, looking at his masterpiece.
jaren has always been fond of the bluebells that grew in his yard. he misses his old house for that very reason; there are no bluebells in tyler's and craig's yard. the memories there are painful but the bluebells make them all fade away.
after he met john, he didn't need the bluebells. the blonde provided the same comfort that the bluebells had all those years ago. with john, he didn't need to act like someone he wasn't. he just had to be himself because that was what john liked.
tears leak from his eyes as he stares at the stuffed milk plushie john got him a couple months ago. he misses the boy's sly comments, giggles, and sooting nature. he misses everything about the boy and it's getting harder to live with himself everyday.
he turns on the fireplace, grabbing pictures and notes from his relationship. he just wants everything to burn up because that's what his soul is doing now. he wants to feel the pain; he craves it now.
"fuck you for playing with my heart. fuck you for cheating on me with a girl," he sobs out, throwing memories into the voluminous flames, "fuck you for making me love you so much."
the papers turn to ash, burning quickly. jaren holds onto his chair for support, summoning all his strength to just stand up. he begs for someone to catch him; someone needs to save him from this misery inside.
"jaren, i'm ho- are you okay?" tyler shouts, swinging open the door and catching the sobbing, shaking boy with a delicate touch. his body is cold and worn out.
"i don't know," jaren admits, sitting down on the couch. tears stream down his face and catch in his little locks of hair.
"hey, it'll be okay. at least, i hope it will," tyler whispers, sitting next to jaren, "shit, i'm not good at this. i'm not a therapist like craig is for you."
"you're trying," jaren picks at a thread on his pants, "that's more than anyone has ever done for me."
jaren didn't think he would make it to the end of the month.
🍂
anthony stands outside the basement door, banging on it with an annoyed look. he taps his foot impatiently, causing the door to swing open. the brown haired boy stares at the other, walking inside the door.
"did you get the information i asked you to find?" anthony asks, grabbing a cup of fruit punch from the fridge. he lays on the couch while the boy with glasses crosses his arms.
"i don't want to do this to him," the brown hair boy angrily grunts, turning away from anthony and the fruit punch in his hand.
"well, you have to. do you really want everyone else to know that you cheated on marcel with another man, scotty? plus you're the top spy in the teenage world," anthony grabs his chin, giving him a sinister smile.
"fine, here's what you need," scotty says, frowning as he hands anthony over the sheet. anthony carefully scans through the words, looking up at scotty after he is done.
"so he lives with tyler and craig? they're also both gone on weekdays and weekends while jaren stays home," anthony stares at the wall, letting out a deep chuckle, "well, i guess i'm going to have to pay that beautiful boy a visit some time. what do you think about that scotty?"
"you're a monster; you're fucking sick," scotty spits out, trying to not punch the boy in the face. anthony walks closer to him, making him run back towards the stairs. anthony pins him on the wall, getting close to his face.
"i'm not sick; i'm just a little delirious in the head. and boy, everyone loves a little crazy."
🍂
song: coming back down by hollywood undead
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