Blood of A Rose

Blood of A Rose - Part 7

Summary - A series of events lead towards an all-too familiar situation as tension begins to rise between Vicky and (Y/n), but Art eases the latter in his own way.

Notes - Hey so life happened and shit is wack. But the next chapter is here finally 🥹👍🏻

Warning(s) - Canon-typical violence, Art being Art, blood, gore, explosion/bomb

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(Y/n) sat on the floor next to Art, empty trash bag in front of her with the presents stacked behind her. She shook a can of red spray paint, about to spray the bag when Art slapped her shoulder from where he sat on his stool. She turned and looked up at him, seeing a frustrated frown on his face.

"What?" She asked in confusion. His hand clawed up and he reached up to motion in front of his lips and nose, mouthing what he wished to convey before throwing his arm back down with a fiercely determined expression. "I don't have anything to cover with." (Y/n) chuckled incredulously and he rolled his eyes, shoulders dropping.

He stood and motioned for her to wait with a sarcastic smile, immediately dropping when he turned and left for her room. While she waited, (Y/n) huffed and leaned back against his bench, setting down the can of paint and crossing her arms.

She watched as he nearly stomped back towards her, balled up fabric in hand. He halted in front of her, shoving his hand with the cloth in front of her and she eyed him. Impatient, he rolled his eyes again and tossed it into her lap, motioning for her to tie it around her nose and mouth. "I'll be fine, Art, I don't need it."

Art stomped his foot, frown still set on his face as he pointed at her, waving his hands beside both sides of his head with crazy eyes. He pointed at her and cut his hand across his throat aggressively, crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

"Fine." (Y/n) rolled her eyes and unfolded the fabric, finding that it was a simple T-shirt and begrudgingly tied it around her face. "Happy?" She snarked, voice slightly muffled.

Art grinned widely and gave her a thumbs up, bouncing back onto his stool as he worked on a wrapped box in front of him. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, picking up the paint once more and shaking the can before beginning to spray the bag.

She would never admit it, but the cloth did wonders to help compared to the last time she dealt with paint. Art was hesitant to let her go anywhere near the substance after what happened, but with her beady eyes and small pout he had no choice but to let her, and her happiness that followed made it worth it to him - which is something he would never admit.

Once she finished, she groaned with a stretch, struggling to stand up as her back and legs were stiff from sitting for so long. She glared at Art when he laughed at her, mocking her as he rubbed at his wrist. He flinched back playfully with a smile as she lunged at him, smacking his arm.

He pointed at the bag and gave a thumbs up in a silent question.

"Well, it has to dry first. Not sure how long it'll take."

Art tapped at the imaginary watch on his wrist, then jutted both thumbs towards the front door.

"I mean, it'll be done before we have to leave, but it might cut close." The clown waved a hand off, giving her an ok symbol before standing. He patted her cheek and turned to wander out of the room, (Y/n) crossing her arms.

The two of them busied themselves until the sun was well above the horizon: cuddling, painting, tinkering and the works. They both checked the bag every so often, Art growing impatient as time ticked closer to their deadline.