PAINT CANS. [II AU]

1: busy loss

"Alright everyone settle down."

Paintbrush tried to console their class. Paintbrush had a hard time plucking the sounds out from all the noise since everything was so loud. The noise from everyone kept continuing. Paintbrush looked around to find a way to stop the noise. "Bingo" Paintbrush thought to themself as they walked to the side and grabbed a metal paint can and mallet; they banged the mallet on the side of the paint can as it made a loud metal smack causing everyone to give their attention to the noise and paintbrush.

Paintbrush put down the paint can and mallet off to the side and put their hands behind their back. "Great, now that I have your attention we can now start class. Today is a free-draw so make whatever you want to your heart's content. If anyone needs help or critique, don't be afraid to ask." as Paintbrush watched everyone begin working on their art they thought to themself, looking around the room "Damn, I need to clean this room." Paintbrush hated disorganization and clutter.

Paintbrush started to pick up their classroom supplies that have been lying around and put them back in their organized spots. They tidied up their classroom and cleaned some dirty brushes. Paintbrush started to notice the amount of empty paint cans they had; they wondered why, but then their brain clicked. "Oh yeah I did that one big canvas awhile back, that makes sense," they thought to themself. Paintbrush didn't know what to do with them at first, but they thought of using them as extra storage since they were running out of space for their brushes. Paintbrush wiped sweat off their forehead as they were done tidying up their classroom, now everything wasn't eye bleeding to look at for them.

"Tissues you fucking dick, you got snot on my drawing!" Paintbrush pinched the bridge of their nose and sighed. "What is it now..." They thought to themself; they turned around to see Trophy and Tissues arguing with each other. "It's s'not my fault" Tissues sniffled in the middle of his sentence. "You're so damn annoying." Trophy sneered "Trophy cut it out." Paintbrush said in a annoyed tone "Whatever, queer." Trophy barked.

Paintbrush eyes widened and their mouth stood slightly agape offended by the insult. "What the hell man." someone commented; Paintbrush mentally nodded in agreement with the person "You really need to work on that attitude of yours." Paintbrush stated. "Says you." Trophy remarked. Paintbrush's eye twitched. "Ok, well you can get the hell out." Their tone was stern and blunt as they pointed to the exit, Trophy scoffed and got up; Paintbrush stared daggers at him as he stormed out of the class, slamming the door on his way out.

Paintbrush didn't realize everyone had their attention on the situation; Paintbrush flapped their hand signaling to get everyone back to work. "Sorry about that." they quietly spoke to Tissues; Tissues quietly nodded. Paintbrush walked back to the front of class and sat on a stool; they pulled out their phone and checked their notifications. Paintbrush noticed they had a new text from their step mother; they usually don't get texts from her so they were confused as to what it was that she sent to them, Paintbrush assumed it was a family event they missed.

Paintbrush opened the text.

Paintbrushes heart sank, their father got into a fatal accident.

Paintbrush, trying to hold back tears stood up from the stool/ "I need to go." Paintbrush's voice softly croaked, They walked out of the classroom, fighting the urge to break out in front of everyone in a weep, leaving the class confused and a little concerned.

They entered their room, closed the door, and slouched down with the door behind their back. They screamed in mental anguish, they felt as if their heart was being stabbed over, over, and over with a butcher's knife. Tears couldn't stop running over their cheeks. Everything hurt physically, mentally, emotionally and probably spiritually. They gripped their hair as if they were about to rip it out. Paintbrush's breaths were labored; it felt like there was something in their throat making it difficult to swallow or catch their breath. Paintbrush's cries got more and more quiet as minutes passed, nothing but hiccups and sharp breaths coming out at this point.

Paintbrush loved their father, he was the only family that they could talk to without having to censor themself. Their father was the only person in their family that respected and truly loved them. Memories ran through Paintbrush's head. It somewhat brought them a sense of comfort, but knowing the fact that their father was now deceased poked their heart with needles. Paintbrush went through a rollercoaster of emotions; they curled up into a ball on the floor shaking like a wet cat, their eyes stung; it was more difficult to cry now that they were drained of energy.

silence echoed in the room until the artist faintly heard a knock.