Colby ran far from the school, unable to stop until he closed his front door behind him. The blonde's voice swirling in his head, his thoughts crashing into him like a tidal wave. One thought after another, in an attempt to drown him. His father lay passed out on the couch. Much like Sam who smelled of acrylic paint, his father smelt heavily of his own medium, the alcohol almost making the brunette nausea.
Colby's hands shook as he tried to choke down his panic, hoping to remain quiet so his father could remain asleep. His world seemed to be crashing down around him, all because of some stupid boy who wanted to draw him. Who would want to draw such an imperfect piece? His creator wasn't done, he was never done. Why did Sam have to be curious, no one has been curious before. Colby was happy with the rumors, and he enjoyed having his lips stuck together. He was a trained brick wall, cold, silent, and left alone. So why is it that when Sam cornered him in the hallway he almost broke down?
Shaking away his thoughts, trying to drown out the blonde's voice that seemed to be on repeat in his head, Colby opened the freezer silently in the kitchen, grabbing a handful of ice. He closed the freezer door and squeezed the ice between his hands harshly, the cold forcing him to focus on his hands and ignore his pounding thoughts. The cold turned to freezing to which it turned into pain. Cold, hard pain. He froze the oncoming wave and his breathing slowly returned to a steady rhythm. His mind was only focusing on the cold, the way his hands became numb. Colby wanted to be numb, he wanted to be nothing more than to be the solid ice between his hands, so then maybe he could melt away into his own perfect little master piece.
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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.
