Iridescent | Wesley Johnson [completed]

Wiping off Paint

The delightful blaring of a fire alarm disturbs my sleep, followed by a suspicious-looking smoke making its merry way through the crack in Wes' bedroom door. Of course, I do what any rational human does: I panic.

"Wes? Wes! Where in the world..." I search for his body in the bed, desperately hoping to find him there, despite having noticed the absence of his warmth the second I woke up. Hurriedly I roll out of bed, stumbling over some slippers on my way out of the room. The dingy hallway of their shared apartment is filled with a thick, toxic smoke that makes me cough. I squint through the tears, frantically searching for a flame.

"Emelie! God I'm sorry, I was just making pancakes and..." Wes enters the hallway, coughing and fanning the smoke away with a kitchen towel. I feel my heart soar with relief. He's okay. He marches up to me and leads me out of the apartment by my arm, rambling something about breakfast. Still in shock, I blindly follow him until we're standing on the pavement outside together with the other tenants in the building. Only when the chill from early morning concrete starts to seep through my naked feet and up my legs does my mind begin to clear, and I realise in a flash of mortification that I'm only wearing panties and Wes' dirty t-shirt. I shiver and snuggle up closer to his body, causing him to look down at me in concern.

"I'm sorry, I should have grabbed a jacket for you. Damn, I just wanted to bring you breakfast in bed, I don't know how this happened. Even Joven haven't managed to set pancakes on fire!" He says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with the arm that isn't currently holding me. Cute. A tired giggle escapes my mouth, effectively stopping his apologies.

"I appreciate the effort, but let's get IHOP next time." I mumble while I sleepily rest my head on his chest. I really could do with another few hours of sleep, it can't be much more than eight in the morning.

"Let's get dressed as soon as the firemen have made sure it's safe to go back inside." He murmurs, fully embracing me, thus effectively shielding my rather naked lower half from the rest of the street with his body.

*****

"Well, boyfriend, what else do you have in store for me today? Not that setting fire to your kitchen wasn't an experience." I tease, leaning over my steaming pancakes with a smug smirk. Wes doesn't even try to hide his blush as he stirs his coffee, shamefully smiling at what must be my fiftieth playful jab this morning. I'm enjoying this far too much.

"I was thinking we could go camping or something, but considering how things have been going so far, we should probably play it safe." He laughs as I mumble a "you don't say", before going back to eating pancakes. The restaurant is buzzing around us, filled to the brim with screaming kids and stressed workers, yet it all seems quiet and serene in his company. I woke up to a fire in the apartment, but feel as calm and relaxed as if I would have woken up in a field of wildflowers on a sunny day.

"Well, if you're out of suggestions I have a few. Most of them involve kissing, and the rest repairing your kitchen before Joshua comes back." A bit smugly, perhaps, I watch his face turn another shade of darker red. I will never get over how adorably innocent he is.

"I have a few suggestions too, but all of them involve kissing and about half of them belongs in the bedroom." He speaks quietly, meeting my eyes with a mischievous look.

I take it back. I take back everything I said about innocence.

"Right." I awkwardly clear my throat, trying to figure out a way to fan the blush on my cheeks away without being really obvious. Wes seems satisfied, that little bastard.

"But you're right, repairing should probably be our priority." He laughs, leaning back to sip at his coffee with a satisfied expression.

I don't agree.

*****

"Are you sure this is the right shade?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at the paint we bought. Next to the single unscorned cupboard it looks too yellow, but it might just be a trick of the light. Wes frowns, stopping his brushstrokes. He steps back from the half painted wood, half of it a dark ashen colour, and the other a creamy off-white. It's definitely not the same shade as the rest of the kitchen. We collectively groan.

"I'm not going back to the store." He says grumpily, and I laugh, though the lazy side of me can't help but agree. Besides, we bought more than enough paint to repaint the whole kitchen.

"Might as well do it all while we're at it then, I guess." I say with a sigh, but my tired expression doesn't match how happy I feel. The whole situation is almost a bit domestic, a thought that leaves me feeling all bubbly inside. Wes turns to me with a sheepish smile again, looking too darn cute with a smear of paint on his left cheek. I step closer to him, attempting to wipe it away with my thumb but failing miserably. He smiles again.

"What are you doing?" Amusement lines his voice as he whispers.

"Wiping off paint. Well, trying to. It... apparently... dried already." I mumble, losing track of my words as I gaze into his eyes, bright and playful. He hums, and brings a paint-speckled arm around to rest on my lower back. I don't scold him for staining my clothes.

"I think you just wanted to come closer to me." He teases, but silences any protest on my tongue by pressing his lips against mine. The kiss is sweet, warm and loving. For once, there's no rush, no need to prove anything. He knows that I know, and I know that he knows. Knows that we want us. Knows that we care.

"I think you might be right." I whisper, before kissing him softly again. The paint dries in the background, some car honks and the song on the radio changes from a happy beat to a slow ballad, yet we kiss. Just the two of us, and nothing else.

*****

After six long hours of hard work, which was significantly postponed because of earlier mentioned activities, the kitchen looks almost the same as it did yesterday. A new stove was installed (thankfully Wes' insurance covered that) and although the room has a different warmth because of the new paint, it's such a subtle difference that you wouldn't be able to tell what had taken place only hours before.

We slump down on the couch, tiredly chewing on some leftover pizza and finishing the Toy Story movie. Wes dozes off on my shoulder as soon as the credits begin to roll, and having nothing better to do I resort to browsing through Twitter. Things must surely have calmed down by now, right?

They haven't.

My dms are blowing up with hateful messages, I've been tagged in hundreds of posts and comments. Sure, not all of them are bad, but that doesn't remove the sinking feeling in my gut. No one else had to face this kind of hate when they introduced their partners. What's so bad about me?

The logical side of me tells me that it's jealousy; jealousy started the rumours and jealousy is what caused them to spread.

The illogical side of me, however, struggles to understand why this is happening, why I should have to put up with this. It refuses to not take it personally, and I feel like fainting. Wes grumbles in his sleep and I'm pulled back to reality. With a sigh I shut down the application.

Just a few more days Emelie, it's bound to die down soon. Just a few more days.

"What are you doing?" Wes asks as I shift uncomfortably again, startling me. He laughs at my reaction as he sits up to tiredly rub his eyes. A strand of white-ish hair sticks out stubbornly from his scalp, there's a bit of dry drool in the corner of his mouth and a fond smile on his lips. Utterly, devastatingly adorable.

"Let's go to bed." I smile at him, stroking his unruly hair. He hums but almost falls asleep in my palm, sleepily leaning on me for warmth.

Just a few more days, and then we can be happy.

A/N

Uh..

Surprisee?

I'm doing my best to finish this. Hopefully, if things go to plan (which, as you've probably noticed, they usually don't), there will be another chapter up within a week.

Thank you for your support and 16K reads, that's insane. 

BrokenMindsCantDie aka Sarcastic