A month and 11 days

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Roman concentratedly sat on one of the dinner table chairs, facing towards the living room with his sketchbook, half-used watercolors, and a toy gun

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Roman concentratedly sat on one of the dinner table chairs, facing towards the living room with his sketchbook, half-used watercolors, and a toy gun. Yes, he was painting in front of Will, and yes, the gun was to shot Will if he got too close to looking.

It was pitch black outside, the day being filled with heartless insults and glares, being calmed with the low humming of the fridge and Wills fingers turning pages of his book.

Will lounged on the couch, boredom building up with every word he read. With horrible regret, Will takes back saying he could stay here for the rest of his life with books and food, because fuck, he's become bored out of his fucking mind. Everything sounded boring to him. Reading felt repetitive at times. Swimming got tiring. Relaxing got too bland for him. These bonding activities they're forced to do are the only source of entertainment he has, because then he could poke and prod at Roman all he wants. He can make fun of him without the immense danger of getting hit, and make him mad to his heart's content. He was itching for a fight as well.

Fighting continuously for years and suddenly stopping... it created a craving to do so. It was like an alcohol addiction. And he was feeling the withdrawal with head scratches and finger twisting. He just needed a distraction. Right as he looked up, the Brazilian's stubble and unruly mess of hair stood out. His eyebrows scrunched signaturely, staring intensely at the painting beneath his brush. Will stood up with a grin, almost hopping his way towards Roman before plopping into the chair in front of him.

The dark-haired boy's hand shot toward the toy guns and within a second, it was pointed right at Will's head with a finger hovering over the trigger.

"Baby," Will exasperated, putting his hands up, "How could you do this?"

"I'm not in the mood for your annoying attitude." He growled, glaring at Will with a tired look. He covered the painting with his free hand, preventing Will from looking who was getting closer and closer with his hands up.

"After all we've been through, the baby, the divorce, the long enormous nights with my dick u-" The Brazilian's eyes went wide as he interpreted the smirking blond.

"Leave." He growled.

Will put his hands down with a glare, "Can't I just watch you paint?"

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Please."

"Say no if I can."

"No- Wait you ca-" His voice got higher, his annoyance visible with the brooding cease between his eyebrows.

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