"Kiss me." He picks me up and kisses me again.
His hands on my waist, my hands in his hair and my lips all over him.
I think I don't have a crush anymore.
I think i'm in love.
We break the kiss and he looks at me, "I'm so fucked aren't I my Val?"
︶꒦...
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"I want to dye my hair red!" I yell in his bathroom.
Demi knocks on the door, and I yell for him to come in.
"Your hair is beautiful the way it is," he mumbles as he snuggles into my neck.
This weirdo and my neck, he's emotionally attached to it, I'm sure.
"Thank you, but I'm bored with my life," I state.
He raises both eyebrows, "bored, is it?" He smiles slyly, and I blush.
I never knew the male species were so eager for spicy time because this man won't stop making advances.
It's funny to see him flop.
"Demi, pick a number 1-5?" I ask as I grab the scissors and keep them a little too close to my hair.
"4?" He asks, confused.
"Great! That means I should dye it!" I exclaim.
"How the fuck does that work?"
I shrug at him, and his hands wrap around my waist.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles.
This man has not stopped apologizing for what happened in the past and has been trying to make me feel better by doing little acts of kindness, which were cute.
I eventually decided not to dye my hair and leave it in peace after Hanzo argued that I'll look like a freak.
He's the freak.
As usual, Demi was working the entire day, and I'm fighting every urge not to knock into his room and scream that I'm a member of the FBI and I'm going to snitch on everyone in the room.
I look at the twenty art pieces that stand on a range of canvases.
In the play Hamilton, there's a song where they say, "How do you write like you're running out of time." Mother trucker, how do I paint like I'm running out of time?
I've created many art pieces that resemble the Renaissance era because these days, art has been lacking beauty and seems like an old man scribbling on a canvas.
Not hating, though.
I decide to create a watercolor-based painting.
I sketch out an outline of a woman on the edge of a deadly, dark cliff. The sky is a saddening grey, while waves crash into the canvas. The woman's face conveys anger and shock. She had long, curly black hair, and her dress is pure white.
