Colby wasn't sure what he was feeling, was it love? Gratitude? Hope? He didn't know. Something about the blonde was different, the way he treated Colby was as if he was already a masterpiece that hadn't been discovered yet...the blonde saw him as a beautiful creation that he wanted to get down on paper.
It was so different compared to his father, the artist who uses his fists and words. He always thought that his father was shaping him to become a masterpiece, but what if he was already one?
The bruised boy- no the paint-spattered boy, was unsure of what to think.
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Paint *Solby*
FanfictionA broken boy who pictures himself as a canvas A struggling artist who has lost inspiration Trigger Warning, intense scenes with description of abuse and violence. Read at your own risk.
