OPEN [boyxboy] ✓

five:: when you get 'the talk.'

What confused me was the fact that the left side of the room seemed to be lived in and then the side closest to the window was completely spotless. My eyes glanced around the walls and the block letters on opposing walls. The left wall said RILEE written in big letters and the floor was littered with scrap paper, a mountain of sketchbooks propped up on a bedside table. There was also a computer sitting on a painted desk in the middle of the room, separating the sides.

The wall closest to the window had PAUL written in big black letters smeared with paint and as I looked further down onto the small makeshift bedside table, there were paint cans upon cans, canvases stacked against the wall. a painting peeking through the overlapping white, a sheet covering most. Aside from the covered painting, the walls were covered in paint, a not done mural I supposed although you couldn't tell exactly what it was at the moment. But even though the main attraction was the wall, I couldn't keep my attention from the painting.

Making my way over, I reached up to run my hand across the sheet to pull it open a bit.

I was curious.

"What are you doing?" Paul's voice sounded through the room , giving me goosebumps as I spun on my heels. His voice wasn't accusing but more confused as he plopped his back on his bed after fixing the sheet over his canvas.

"Uh nothing, I was just... looking out the window."

"In my bedroom?"

"Y-yeah." I tried to laugh it off. "It-it sounds weird now that we're talking about it but the view's nice and I kinda—" intruded on your space. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Paul nodded, crossing his arms behind his head and laying down on them, facing the ceiling. I was about to head for the door when his voice stopped me. I hadn't expected him to talk when he did, his tone holding nothing short of curiosity and concern, "What happened to your face?"

I hesitated before biting my cheek and rocking on my heels, my eyes wandering around the room as I tried to make it seem like less of a big deal, "Calum."

I heard a creak and turned to see Paul sitting up in his bed. His eyes were glued on me as I fidgeted nervously, he seemed to be really invested in what I had to say. He pushed his sleeves up before standing and placing a hand on my shoulder, his socks creating little indents in the carpet, "That guy you were..?"

I nodded, "Yeah," he motioned his hand as if to tell me to elaborate. I sighed, "I told him I loved him, he rejected me, he said some shit about my sister, we fought, and he went ham on my face."

It went silent, I don't know what I was expecting but it definitely wasn't to be wrapped up in Paul's arms. His hand drew big comforting circles on my back as he held me, the rise and fall of his chest steadying my train of thought as it took everything in me not to have those emotions hit me hard.

Paul's voice came out remorseful and raspy as if he hadn't spoken for a while. My throat closed up, "I'm sorry."

I shrugged, men don't cry, "It's okay. I mean, it's not all bad."

I could hear his humor as he pulled away and held me at arms length, the curvature of his smile sending the corner of my mouth shooting upwards, "Whys that?"

I laughed, trying to add some sense of humor I order to make the situation less awkward. It was one of those moments where I could either keep talking about the shit going on in my life and make him uncomfortable or laugh it off. And I pretended my feelings weren't feeling, numbing my mind, "I found out that he's an asshole before falling further in love with him."

"That sucks."

Why was I about to start fucking crying? "Everyone knows."

"Jules." It was soft and his hand was on mine and it felt so nice. I almost couldn't hear him, my heart was pounding so fast. "It's no one's business. Fuck them. You've done nothing to deserve this."