I'll kiss your lips again (Frerard)

Chapter 7

"What are we doing?" I ask.

"Splatter painting." he answers, smiling wolfishly at me.

"You start."
"Me? You start!" I protest.
"I don't even know what to do."
"You don't have to know what to do." says Gerard. "Just do what feels good, and what feels natural. Okay?"
"Uh, okay... " I say uncertainly.

I slowly raise the paintbrush and look at the colours, deciding which one to choose. My favourite colour is green, so I choose that and I smother my paintbrush with it. Then I raise my hand and flick it, sending drops of paint flying onto the canvas.

"Yay, I did it Gerard!" I exclaim, smiling at him.
He nods.
"Why did you choose green?"
"Um... it's my favourite colour?" I try.
"Frank, seriously? No. The colour has to have meaning. From now on, you have to tell me why you chose the colour that you did."
"Oh... fine." I sigh.
"Okay. Um, blue?" I say, picking up my brush and dipping it into a colour that looks like the bottom of the sea.
"Why?"

"Because right now I'm calm, and I'm happy."
"Why are you happy?"

"Cause... I'm with you."
"Oh... " he smiles, regarding me with a warm expression.

He reaches over to the hazel, and gracefully flings it at the canvas.
"Why hazel?" I say.

"Well, uh, it's... it's the colour of your eyes." he says, blushing.
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
My heart begins to race. What is he doing to me? Why does he make me want to be more to him than just a student?
I don't know, but when I'm with him anything seems possible.

We soon forget about choosing colours and reasons, and start flinging colours at the board with no reason. We laugh at each other and double over in laughter, throwing paint at each other and ruining our clothes.
The first time, I yell, "what the hell Gerard?" and I laugh loudly.

But then we stop caring and start covering each other in paint. Red paint gets into his hair and the floor gets slippery and colourful.

Then I reach up to aim for his face and his expression freezes. He drops his arms and stops squealing and the room goes silent.

"Frankie." he whispers.
I look down, following his eyes, -unsure what he is looking at.
"What is it Gerard?" I ask softly, flicking my eyes back and forth across his face.

"I... um..." he reaches out to rest his hand gently on my hipbone, where I realize my shirt has ridden up. I wince out of pain and my eyes travel over my stomach, where the bruises have changed colour to a mix of blue, black and purple.

He looks up at me worriedly, his eyebrows furrowed. "How did you get these? Who did this to you?"
I struggle to find words.
"I-I...well, t-the...um... "

"You can tell me, it's okay." he soothes.

I sigh.
"It was the school bullies." I rush out, in a small voice, looking down at the floor.

"Oh... frankie, that's awful." he exclaims, now running his fingers along the different colours.

"It looks painful." he says.
And then after a while, he says, "it also looks real artistic." and I say I agree.

I blush deep red because he is stroking my stomach, and he's very close and alone with me.

I laugh nervously,
which makes him clear his throat and stand up quickly.
"You were really good today." he stresses. "Look at our art we made; it's beautiful, isn't it?"
And I look. The canvas is covered with splodges of paint, and it is stunning.
"It is beautiful." I say, making him smile.

Like you.

"Please tell me if they do something to you again."
"I will." I say.

I turn around, looking over my shoulder.
"Detention finished ages ago." I laugh. "I should go."

"O-oh, yeah I-I, I guess you should." he says sadly.

"Bye Gerard." I say.
"Bye Frankie." he whispers.