Blue Howard (boyxboy)

Reds and Blues

A/N: Hiya! Finally an update. The only promise I can keep is that I am going to finish this story. Sadly, I don't know when the next update will come, but eventually it will. (That's not very promising, but time flies so fast and suddenly it's been a month and I get to be mad at myself for not posting earlier. So, forgive me.)

Maybe this chapter is good? I don't know. 

Happy reading x)

Chapter 42 – Reds and Blues

"Am I supposed to sit a certain way?" Anton asks. He shifts on the stool, turning from one side to another. It is pointless, that's what Howard thinks, but since his mate is so excited, the clever thing to do, is to shut up. "Which is my better side?"

The most frustrating and sad part of it is that Howard could paint Anton just by memory. Every line on his face is stuck in his mind, but having Anton there gives him an excuse to think otherwise. I have a model, therefore I would fail without him, Howard thinks.

"Is the light hitting me from the right angle?" Anton turns to look at the lamp and almost hisses, when it is too bright.

"I am going to hit you if you don't stop moving around," Howard mumbles. He dips the brush in blue paint and drags the first line across the canvas.

Anton smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," he mouths, afraid to make any noise.

Howard paints the lines of Anton's face messily, and then invites Anton to sit next to him.

"Is this going to be all blue and red?" Anton tilts his head. It is strange seeing his face on a canvas that used to be white. Strange how one's artistic powers could trap you into a painting. Maybe he ss going to be the next Dorian Grey. But rather not.

Howard raises his eyebrow. "Is this going to be a problem?"

"No, no, no, of course not!" Anton shrugs. "I was just thinking. I also think it's brilliant."

"Then I guess we're good," Howard says. It makes Anton shiver. Are they good, though? They are barely speaking, at least on Howard's side. Anton is trying to act as cool as possible, but the silliness gets the best of him and goofing around seems to come naturally.

He doesn't want to make a fool of himself. He wants to let Howard decide, but perhaps Evan was right. And, God, does Anton hate how much Evan's words have gotten under his skin – that Howard is trying to not get hurt just like he is. But what if Howard doesn't care at all? What if he just wants to be rid of Anton, the stupid and irritating step-brother?

No, Howard isn't a mean person. Anton is struggling between choosing what to think, how to approach this situation – whether to choose a more positive attitude or not, to expect the worst.

"It's beautiful," Anton blurts. The red and blue have mixed in his features, creating a darker violet, adding shades and making his face seem more realistic. He is coming to life under Howard's brushstrokes.

"It's not finished." It sounds like Howard disagrees, which he probably does, but Anton doesn't care, because magic is happening before his eyes. And with magic comes, sadly, a sudden push towards the edge of a cliff. A cliff, where the only thing waiting is falling, and Anton is scared to death of that. He can't let himself dive into oblivion, where he'd go mad. Without Howard's answer, he'd go insane, boiling in the love he has for the painter boy.

He bites into his cheek to snap out of his thoughts.

"Well, I can already sense the upcoming greatness," Anton says, ignoring the possible response Howard might give him.

Howard snorts, brushing the compliment completely off.

There is a moment of silence, during which Anton regrets everything he's ever done, but at the same time forgives himself for all of those moments. He stares at his hands – the hands that have never painted, the hands that are bad at drawing, but the hands that could hold onto someone he loves, the hands that would caress the red cheeks of the black-haired boy during winter, the hands that would pull the blue-eyed boy close.

"Why do you do this?" Anton asks. He doesn't dare look at Howard, who drops his hand, grasping the paintbrush. "Why do you undermine yourself? Please take the fucking compliment, because I fucking mean it. And it hurts when you shrug it off as if you didn't even hear it." He doesn't yell and that makes hearing his words worse.

Howard turns to look at Anton, who refuses to meet his eyes.

"Perhaps I should move out, huh? Because you seem to be fine on your own," he continues.

"The same goes for you," Howard whispers. This makes Anton look up. "You seemed fine when I ended things. You seem fine now that we are pretend-together. No matter how we are, it all feels the same. Being together now is like being a thousand miles apart. It's as if in a moment we are no more, so I stay away because then I won't get attached."

"So being together is hurting the both us."

Howard shrugs. "Maybe it's because we don't mean it."

"So if I kissed you right now, it would be wrong? You'd push me away?" He knows he shouldn't have said that, he should have just acted, whether that would have been crushing his lips against Howard's or running out of the room and shutting himself in his dorm.

"I don't know."

Anton is about to leave, but then something brushes against his lips. Paint.

"Are you switching from the canvas to actual people?" Anton asks, suspicious of Howard's intentions.

"Your lips are distracting me," Howard smiles.

"Then we need to change this," Anton replies, his insides tingling with excitement. He dips his fingers into blue paint and drags them across Howard's mouth. "I guess we're both distracted now."

Anton leans in, but Howard stops him. "I'm not going to eat paint," he says, and Anton drops his head, laughing. "It's actually filled with chemicals. I'd rather not."

"Well, okay," Anton agrees and then presses his lips against Howard's jaw. "How about that?"

"It was a little distracting." Howard sets down the brush and the paints. He stares at Anton who is staring right back. "Our love is so strange."

"And interesting," Anton adds, smirking.

"You're interesting," Howard teases.

"I will take that compliment, thank you."

"Unlike me."

"You're strange."

"I will most certainly consider this as a compliment." Howard bites his lip.

"Part two, then?" Anton suggests.

Howard nods. "Definitely. I was starting to miss your abs."

Anton wipes his lips with the back of his hand and puts his hands on Howard's shoulder, adding a bit of pressure so he wouldn't move.

"You're still going to kiss me, aren't you?" Howard rolls his eyes.

Anton grins. "I am still going to kiss you."