Alone [manxman]

three:: when you're a beautiful disaster.

[Collide by Tiana Major9 and EARTHGANG]

THREE: when you're a beautiful disaster.

"Hey... how do I mix this color?"

One of the perks of living with another creative was inspiration. Isaiah, although he specialized in photography, was still obligated to take some starter art classes, or foundations. He liked fashion photography, I wasn't sure when oil painting would come in handy but it was nice to watch him try and be innovative.

At that moment, he was trying to create this mossy green color for some weird assignment he had about painting a chair that represented a big moment in his life. And truly, he seemed confused.

I found myself amused as he tried to get the same exact color of the booths in this old photo he had pulled up on his phone. He was referencing the brunch after his baptism, the picture torn at the edges and slapped in a photo book.

I wasn't quite sure why that was so significant since he didn't seem all that religious but I minded my business.

His green was way too cool and he sat cross-legged on our carpet, tilting his palette towards me and biting his tongue.

"Green, a little bit of white and maybe... orange?"

"Orange?" That shocked him, hazel eyes blown wide and I tried not to think of the fact that the color we were mixing was almost the exact shade of Jules' eyes.

"It's warm." Still Isaiah looked confused until I'd taken his palette and demonstrated. Squeezing a very light amount of oil paint onto my palette, I dipped a brush into it, remixing his paint onto my palette when thinking that that hue would look so nice in the composition I was working on.

Head tilted, concentrating. Remembering how weird the idea of mixing paints like this was sort of confusing at first for me too. "Pulls a little red but red would overpower it. Plus the only red you have is more blue toned than anything."

He was picking up his Artist's Loft level one paint then, inspecting it before nodded slowly. In awe, his eyes blew wide when I pushed the palette back into his hand.

"How are so you good at everything?"

"I'm not good at everything." But the affirmation was nice enough.

Isaiah snorted as I denied, almost as soon as I did, like his question actually wasn't sincere. "Yeah, no, you suck at making mac n cheese."

He'd never let that go.

"My macaroni is spectacular, I'll have you know." Rooming with a guy who cooked as a hobby and did it damn well was already tough enough but my mother never made it.

The only time we really had it in the house was family gatherings when one of my distant aunties who -probably wasn't actually my aunt- made it.

And I never really ate it then.

"Anyone that calls it macaroni definitely doesn't know how to make mac n cheese." He was laughing so much louder then and I tried to hide my own amusement. His laugh was always so damn infectious.

"What you need to do is shut up." A laugh spilled through my lips then, index finger extended in his face and Isaiah was laughing even harder. "And, hey- stop it, and you also need a piece of glass instead of this shitty ass plastic."

He was laying back on our carpet, stretching muscled arms in the air and then above his curly head. Turning so he was resting on his elbow, he deadpanned.

"Mhm." Nodding, he smacked his perfect teeth. "Making fun of my materials does not change the fact that you used vegan cheese, Paul, and eggs." He scrunched his forehead together and I kept the tutorial I used to myself. "I mean, eggs? I didn't even know that was possible."