Paint Me Like One Of Your French Men

Painting Three

A few days had passed since that night. Adrian didn't explain himself and Vincent kept going about his business not asking any questions. The two were only getting more and more comfortable with each other as the days went by. Adrian was starting to gain weight even if the food supply was still practically nonexistent. 

"You're taller than me," Vincent stared at Adrian. "I never noticed but you're actually a bit taller than I am," Vincent looked incredibly confused. His face had the expression of a child. "You're always slouching or sitting or resting your head on my shoulder so I didn't even ponder the possibility that you'd be a bit taller," Vincent sighed. "My life is a lie."

Adrian bent his knees a bit to make himself the same height as Vincent. Vincent laughed. "You don't have to do that," he smiled and patted Adrian's head. "Now that you're looking a bit better, can I paint you today?" Adrian nodded. "What do you want to wear?"

'Nothing. ;)' Adrian wrote. 

"Is this a test? You're teasing me, aren't you?" Vincent wasn't sure he could take that at face value. The guy didn't show any signs of revealing his scarred torso to Vincent over the past few days. This was moving along a bit suddenly, wasn't it? Maybe the Adrian before him was actually just a lie. 

"I'm going to get my supplies. You feel free to change into whatever and figure out a pose wherever," Vincent said as he left. Adrian wasn't sure where he was supposed to pose. He was joking about being nude but now he wanted to get naked just to see how Vincent would react. 

Adrian went into the bedroom and stripped. He laid down on the bed stomach-down and used a sheet to just barely cover his butt. He rested his head on his hands and smirked. Vincent walked in, his jaw dropped, and he walked back out. He clearly wasn't mentally prepared for that. 

Vincent walked back in and set up shop. "I didn't think you were serious," Vincent confessed. "But I'm 100% certain you're going to seduce your lover with flair in the future," he immediately regretted saying those words because it implied that Adrian wouldn't be living with him in the future. That type of future was lonely for Vincent but he knew it was inevitable. Who would want to live with a poor man? When they could have a much sexier rich woman? Adrian wasn't Diedrich. Vincent reminded himself. Maybe things would turn out differently. He could always hope.

Did he want things to turn out differently? Was he interested in Adrian in that way? He hadn't thought about it before. His mind drifted as he attempted to paint Adrian. He wasn't concentrating on the model before him and his painting turned out to be incredibly different. He was painting a seductive woman. Not a handsome man. 

With each brushstroke Vincent became more and more frustrated with himself. Why couldn't his brain just focus on painting? And not ridiculous side things? "It's not working," Vincent mumbled as he looked at the ceiling. He picked up what needed to be cleaned and walked out. 

The curious Adrian wrapped himself in the sheet and stood up to look at it. He was surprised to see a beautiful woman. He would be flattered, in a normal circumstance, but there was a sense of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. He picked up the nearest notebook, (there was one in each room now) and began to write. 

Vincent returned and Adrian furiously held the notebook up in his face, 'I thought you were painting me. Who is that? Your lover?' it read. 

"Only if you're calling yourself my lover," Vincent winked.

'That isn't me,' he wrote.

"No, but it was inspired by you," Vincent smiled. "My mind was wandering. I know it isn't the best but that's why you're here. You'll let me paint you again, won't you? Until I get it right?" 

Adrian still felt a bit uneasy. There was nothing he could do to replace this feeling he felt. How was he supposed to get rid of it? He was nervous. About what though? Was he afraid of being replaced? He was happy living here the past few days. What was he supposed to do when Vincent no longer needed him? When the painting was finished? He'd been angry at the thought of Vincent painting someone else but now he was relieved the painting wasn't perfect because it meant that he could stay another day.

How was he supposed to solidify their relationship? What could he do to make Vincent his? Forever? He didn't want to be thrown into the streets again. He didn't want to be forgotten. Memories flooded his mind. Terrible memories. 

No, no, Vincent wasn't like those men. He didn't want to use him or sell him to anyone. Adrian grabbed Vincent's shirt. This startled Vincent and he took a step back to regain his balance. However, he tripped over a paint bottle and the two fell. Adrian sat up and stared at Vincent. He wasn't trying to leave him. This was his chance. Vincent just looked confused. Adrian had to make him his. It was now or never. Would he even be able to stay here if he didn't?

Adrian leaned down and kissed Vincent. It was rough and desperate and he wasn't completely sure why he was doing it. Vincent tried to resist but Adrian wouldn't let him. It didn't take much for Vincent to overpower Adrian and pin him to the ground. He knew this fact and he made it reality. Adrian laid defenseless underneath Vincent. The more Vincent tried to break away from the kiss the more Adrian tried to keep him until he eventually bit his lip. Immediate regret swarmed him and he let Vincent go. 

"Why are you doing this? I explained to you on day one that you didn't have to do this in order to stay, didn't I?" Vincent knew that Adrian couldn't respond without the notebook but Vincent refused to let go of his wrists. Blood dripped from the cut on Vincent's lip and landed on Adrian's face. Vincent looked at Adrian. The sheet that had been covering him was completely gone. His scars were visible and a look of pure horror crossed Adrian's face. Horror. Fear. But most importantly rejection. He'd been rejected by Vincent. That's how he felt. Even if it wasn't the case. It was still how he felt.

"This wasn't how this was supposed to go," Vincent leaned down and rested his head on Adrian's chest. "You aren't yourself right now. I don't know why you're acting like this but something is wrong. Do you need me to be a terrible person? So that you'll know that I won't leave you? Or so that you know I will because you aren't meant to be loved? What is it that you want from me? So that you'll be at peace here?" Vincent's voice cracked and Adrian could feel the wetness of blood and tears. 

Vincent's grip on Adrian's wrists loosened and his tears stopped. He moved his head closer to Adrian's and whispered in his ear, "Do you want me to fuck you so bad that you can't get up and leave me?" His voice was different. Adrian felt a shiver run down his spine. Something was off. 

"You can't leave if you can't walk," his hands clenched Adrian's wrists so tightly he felt as if circulation would cease. Vincent moved to look Adrian in the eyes. He wasn't smiling. He was grinning creepily instead. It would be a lie to say that Adrian wasn't scared. This was the same expression of someone that would've harmed Adrian in the past. It wasn't Vincent. It wasn't the Vincent he knew. Was this what it felt like for Vincent? When Adrian suddenly changed and grabbed his shirt?

"You can't talk so you can't complain," Vincent's nails dug into Adrian's skin. His mouth got closer and closer to Adrian's but he stopped. Adrian's fear hit him hard. "I can't do it," his face went back to normal and relief flooded Adrian. "I can't be a terrible person when you look that afraid of what I am going to do."

Vincent let go and stood up. He grabbed some shoes, his keys, and walked out of the apartment. Adrian lifted his arm up but Vincent was already too far away. He couldn't grab him. What if he didn't come back? What if Adrian was abandoned now? Why did things turn out like this? This wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't at all what he wanted. 

Adrian lay on the floor and silently cried. Tears just kept coming. The thought of Vincent not coming back haunted him for the entirety of Vincent being gone. He just grabbed the notebook and continued to write 'I'm sorry.' over and over and over again. Pages and pages. He was trash and deserved to live on the street. Why had he accepted a brief moment of happiness if it would all come crashing down like this? Because of him? Adrian threw the notebook and grasped his hair so tight that some of it fell out. 

What was he going to do? 

If Vincent never returned?