PRBLM (bxb) ✓

6.

WARNING: some sexual content is included in this chapter

      Apollo held the brush above the paper, wet with paint. He'd been working on this piece over the past week and felt scared to finish it. He hovered in the corner of the canvas, staring at the collage of colors created by his hand.
    The watered-down paint suddenly dripped from the brush to splatter onto the dried canvas. Apollo panicked and wiped his sleeve against the cotton. The paint smeared, and he sighed dejectedly.
    Dropping his brush into the compartment of the easel, Apollo tried to stand up. The clutter over the floor came for him again, and he stepped straight into a bag of empty picture frames, shattering the glass and falling backward. Apollo groaned and gazed at the cobwebbed ceiling above him.
     He'd lived in this stupid trailer with his mother for his entire life, and it was falling apart around them. Apollo dug around in his pocket. Maybe a change wouldn't be so bad.

Apollo: im coming over asshole 

Alec: trip on your way in

Apollo: stop

....

     Alec opened the door and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust, as per usual. Apollo rolled his eyes.
     "Is that mold?" Alec laughed, and his eyes shrunk and shriveled up at the lids. Apollo thought he saw his old friend for a second.
     "My watercolors are old."
     "Decades?"
     "Centuries." Apollo's lips threatened to curve upward. It was another of those weird moments they seemed to have where they didn't feel like real enemies. But Apollo knew not to have thoughts like that. He waited as Alec stepped aside to let him in.
     "So, have you ever seen a bathtub before?"
     "No, could it be made of grass?" Apollo received a jab in the side as Alec directed them to the bathroom. Apollo's hands began to sweat as they approached. That was where Apollo had washed soup from his face. That was where Alec had him against a wall, scared for his life.
     Alec turned on the light and turned to Apollo. "Alright, kneel over the tub." Apollo spluttered.
     "Why?"
     "I'm giving you an enema at home, Apollo."
     "Please don't?" Alec laughed and squatted next to the tub, turning the valve for water.
     "Relax, I'm just gonna wash the swamp." The last thing Apollo thought he was capable of doing was relaxing. But still, he dropped to the floor and leaned his head into the tub. The wall Apollo clutched to prevent himself from falling forward vibrated with the flow of the water. Apollo felt like throwing up. Why was he so nervous? It wasn't like he didn't wash his hair occasionally. It was that Alec was going to do it.
      Apollo watched Alec search a cupboard for shampoo. He turned his head to watch and wonder if the moment was real. Alec wasn't wearing a fake, practiced smile, and he wasn't glaring at Apollo, either. He had the most innocent look Apollo had ever seen him sport. Apollo stared until Alec found what he was looking for.
     "This should be better for your curly-headed-fuck-ness." Alec now kneeled beside Apollo, testing the water with his finger.
     "Are you sure it's not a special concoction designed to finally kill me?"
     "I'd never-" Alec considered the statement. "Okay, not this time." Apollo stared at the bottle wearily.
     "How do you know it's better?" Alec sighed and let his eyes move to the ceiling. He stared at the divide between the tub and drywall.
     "My hair is curly, too." Apollo actually laughed.
     "No, you have that fucking popular kid McDonald's hair." Alec gave him a look.
     "I straighten it," Alec's features turned sheepish, and Apollo was reminded of a time when they were both different, and Alec was only embarrassed by getting muddy and not by something that was a part of who he was. "Is my hair now bad?" Apollo nearly grinned at him.
      "It's not you. I never remember seeing you with enough hair to notice it was curly, though," Apollo studied Alec's unachievable features. He couldn't find one imperfection. His eyelids hooded symmetrically over his blue eyes, and his nose made perfect sense for his face. Alec was born lucky, and Apollo was not. "My opinion shouldn't matter." Alec nodded.
    "Well, let's see what we're working with." Alec's hand was suddenly on the back of Apollo's neck, and the nervous boy had to stop himself from lurching forward into the bathtub in surprise.
     As soon as Alec's fingers had danced onto Apollo's skin, they were gone again. They returned to tangle in the hair at the back of his scalp. Alec didn't know of the foreign sensations Apollo had suddenly felt spread down his back. The comfort. Because Alec had probably been touched this way before.
    Alec guided Apollo's head to the faucet, trying not to pay attention to the grease and frequent tangles his fingers caught on.
    "This uh, might hurt," Alec whispered to Apollo and began attempting to brush out the extremely matted hair with his fingers.
    Apollo winced at the tugs on his scalp and disliked the feeling of the hair raising his skin, but the feeling of someone else touching him was so different and new. Apollo turned himself to look at Alec.
    "I've got a big problem, Alec...I don't think I can hate you anymore." His breathing shallowed, but Alec's lips curved into a tiny smile that Apollo might've missed if he'd blinked.
     "You sure that's not a blessing, assface?" Apollo turned back around, focusing on the drain below him, and a wave of shame washed over him as he watched the water drip from his hair and become discolored and dirty.
     "I'm sure it's not." Alec's fingers left Apollo's hair to reach for the shampoo.
     "Liar."