Rosa Nera: Saving Grace (BWWM) | ✓

Nausea.

"I exist, that is all, and I find it nauseating."
~Jean-Paul Sartre

So he might have woken up with butterflies the next day, that didn't mean anything at all...

Right?

The previous day was just him acting on an impulse, it didn't have any significance behind it.

Then why did he feel so, nauseated?

He wasn't nauseated in a bad sense, it was just that his excitement was ad nauseam.

He didn't know why he was excited, but he was.

He was walking on air, towards the seventh heaven and he didn't plan on stopping.

He slid his legs over the edge of the bed, moving into a seated position. His elbows were on his thighs as his palms held his face.

He let out a soft groan before finally leaving the comfort of his bed, completely avoiding his bathroom and heading straight for the kitchen in nothing but his sleep shorts.

"Are you okay Shawn? You look like a mess." Kristen commented as Shawn passed him by.

"Shut up." He mumbled softly in response, opening the fridge and grabbing himself a bottle of apple juice and a box of left over pizza.

"Could you at least cover yourself? You know how brainless Tiff gets when she sees you in all your naked glory." Armon teased, leaning over the round island in the middle of the kitchen.

"I don't think brainless is the word you're looking for A'mon. Horny, yeah that's the one. That's definitely the one. Horny as fuck." Kristen joked, joining Armon in irritating Shawn to death.

Shawn looked at the two males with half lidded eyes, unimpressed by their foolery.

He heated the slices of pizza, immediately leaving the kitchen as soon as they were hot enough.

He placed the bottle of juice on the floor beside the pizza, sitting across from them.

It was a Saturday morning, and he didn't have the appetite needed to devour the pizza he had right in front of him.

It was odd, immensely odd.

He was indeed hungry, but he couldn't eat. More accurately, his mind was too occupied to even consider consuming a meal.

If there was bacon, would he eat it? He doubted so.

The next few hours he spent painting the image that kept popping into his mind.

The colours that were highly potent on his painting were red and black.

He didn't sketch down what he planned on painting, because, in all honesty, he didn't know what he was painting.

Barely half way through, he got a call from his father.

His father had regrouped with his mother and little brother, as he further analysed the threat that the Yakuza posed.

"They're still small and fairly weak," Was how he described them. "But that doesn't mean we should lower our gaurd. The Yakuza are brutal people, we should keep our head over our shoulder."

Shawn wasn't fully listening to his father's gibberish, his mind would completely drift off else where at times.

He found himself having to constantly force his mind back to what his father was saying.

"I believe the best chance we have at getting an upper hand against these people, would be attending the Formal Party that your brother is holding the next Saturday."