Art can make you money, Art can make you cry.

Work, work, work

I spent the rest of the day drawing the painting up on wall, while my...friend, spent the day sprawled upon the bed and on his laptop, cursing and smiling, cursing and smiling. We talked, but not about parents. I asked him some questions about colours and wrote them up on the wall, I asked him questions about background images and drew them up on the wall. I wore his large shirt wrapped about my arms and open hence the broken buttons. My borrowed bra very visible through the white and the gaps. He, wore nothing except pants. His ripped muscles, my weakness. Yet I controlled my urges to lie next to him, cuddle his chest and watch each and every search he made on the Internet, and kept going with my hard work.
'Here, I think you said the dark blue, but the aqua-ocean blue will make the crow standout more.' I pointed at the pile of spray paint cans.
'The crow is the size of the wall, I don't think it's going to have trouble standing out.' He doesn't even look up from his computer.
'You don't get it.'
'Yes I do.'
I sigh heavily. 'Are we ever going to agree on something?'
'Yes we both think I'm attractive.' He explains, still not looking up from the laptop screen.
I want his attention. I crave his attention.
'You see, I don't agree with that.' I smile cheekily as he slowly closes the screen and kneels on the bed shuffling toward my direction.
'Are you saying, that you don't find me attractive?' He stops in his tracks, his gorgeous eyes not attractive what so ever.
Lie.
I nod seriously.
'Well,' he dismounts from the bed, stands centimetres away from me. Now, only one centimetre. He towers over me, looks down on me like I'm a spider and he is the muscular boot.
Gulp.
'Then we have a serious problem.' His seductive voice whispers in my ear. Suddenly I am grabbed at the nape and thrown on the bed. Where Damian planks on top of me, kisses me, forehead to chest not missing a spot. It tickles, and I can't help but let my loud laugh out.
'Damian!' I scream. 'Get off! I have work to do!' He doesn't stop. I push his head away from my body and laugh at his pulled back cheeks before planting a kiss on his lips and wriggling off the bed.
'Back to the matter at hand. What colour?'
He walks on his knees off the bed and wraps his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head.
Compressing spine, fair bit of weight, mate! I love it.
'Hmm,' he reaches his arms out to be parallel to mine and holds the cans outstretched, 'hmm.' His muscles tense as he pops the lid of each can. THEN, he sprays a streak of each colour on paper. 'Hmm.' He smirks. He's teasing me.
Bitch.
'Would you make a decision?!' I shove him hard. But he doesn't move.
Weak effort.
He frowns at me. 'You want me to make a decision that will be permanent and I'll have to look at it every day. I want to take my time.' I sigh heavily.
'You know what, I like the light blue.'