Paint Me Like One Of Your French Men

Painting Seventeen

Vincent was currently pinned to the wall with a knife against his throat. An angry Adrian glared at him. Was this how he died? He couldn't even attempt to speak or the knife would cut him. 'Where the hell have you been?' Adrian held up a notebook. Vincent could feel the sweat accumulating on his body. He had to admit, he was rarely scared in his life, but at the moment, he was pretty terrified. Sure, Adrian had tried to kill him a couple of times in the past, but this was worse than all of that. Vincent had just gotten to a point where he might not want to die anymore. Now, Adrian was here and threatening to kill him. Where did he go wrong?

'Why do you smell like another man?' Adrian turned the page of the notebook singlehandedly without looking. 

"I can explain," Vincent began. He was only digging himself further into a grave. Adrian wasn't interested in excuses. That much was clear. "I was just helping out a friend. I promise. I didn't do anything worthy of this..." Vincent shut his mouth and fondly remembered what he had done. Adrian wouldn't be pleased. Maybe he did deserve to die. Adrian did warn him not to flirt with anyone ever again unless it was Adrian himself. 

'Explain then.' Adrian's eyes seemed to say even though his glare never let up. Vincent knew he had to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, he just didn't know where to begin.

"I was acting," Vincent promised. "You remember Grell? Right?" Adrian pressed the knife further into Vincent's skin. He could feel a bead of blood run down his neck. Clearly, Adrian didn't like remembering Grell. Jealousy, perhaps. "He is trying to find romance. Not with me, of course, but with, er, a guy he barely knows. Anyway, he was walking with me, asking me to do something, when the guy crossed our path. I assisted in causing his love interest to get jealous and that was that. Nothing happened. I didn't even kiss him. I can assure you it was all PG." 

Adrian stared as if thinking over his next move. He didn't want to leave a scar on Vincent. That wouldn't be right. He was the one with the scars. Vincent's skin was too clean. Too pure. Part of him wanted to leave his own marks, to take away the beauty, but he wouldn't do that. Adrian grabbed Vincent's arm and dug his long nails deep into the skin. The fabric wouldn't save Vincent from a bruise. He winced but didn't say anything. 

Adrian stabbed the wall next to Vincent's head. There was yet another bead of blood. This time, cascading down his ear. Some threads of Vincent's hair fell to the ground. He made a mental note never to cheat on his beloved Uny. 

The silver-haired man looked disinterested. He walked away but left the knife in the wall. Vincent brought his hand up to his neck. It wasn't that deep of a cut but he should still bandage it. His ear, on the other hand, might need a bit more than just a bandage. It hurt more than his neck. Vincent escorted himself to the bathroom. That's where he kept the first aid kit. 

Ointment, bandaids, he wasn't sure if covering the wound up would make it more or less noticeable. Should he just answer questions with a lie? Someone was bound to ask. It was only a matter of time. 

The sound of a crash quickly diverted Vincent's attention. He ran to the noise only to find that Adrian had dropped something, he didn't care what, made of glass. Vincent rushed over to him, inquiring about if he was okay, but the tears coming from his eyes proved otherwise. Vincent stared at Adrian. He examined him only to find that there wasn't anything wrong. 

"Why are you crying?" he asked. Adrian pointed. He was pointing at Vincent but Vincent couldn't tell if he was pointing at a specific spot or just Vincent in general. Adrian wrapped his arms around Vincent's torso and hugged him, still crying. 

"Why are you crying?" Vincent repeated. 

'Why aren't you crying?' Adrian wrote. 'I was so mean! Why aren't you mad at me?'

"Are you feeling guilty for being possessive?" Vincent couldn't help but laugh a bit. So, there was an adorable side to Adrian. He should've expected that to come out sooner or later. 

"I would never be mad at you," Vincent promised. "No matter what you did," he patted Adrian's head. 

'That's part of the problem,' Adrian sighed. Vincent wouldn't understand no matter how he explained it. That made it all the more troublesome. Adrian would either have to learn how to control himself...or end up feeling bad all of the time. 

Vincent attempted to clean up the mess Adrian had made, but the guy wouldn't let go of him. So he ended up moving around very slowly with his newfound human-sized attachment. Eventually, the glass was cleaned up. It just took forever. "There is just this one las-" Vincent reached down to pick it up only to find that it was oddly sharp for looking so dull. His finger began to bleed.

"Damnit," Vincent cursed. He dropped the piece of glass and attempted to pick it up again, this time more carefully. Adrian reached out and grabbed his hand, refusing to let him. He dragged the hand closer to his mouth and sucked on it. Vincent, wanting to say how that wasn't healthy, opened his mouth to speak. Words never escaped. Instead, he felt a wave of discomfort wash over him. What had caused it? He didn't want to think about anything bad happening. Too many bad things had already happened. Why wasn't he just allowed to be happy? 

Adrian had felt the same discomfort. They both looked at each other. There was a knock at the door.