Dem Salty Bois (and friends) One-Shots

Colourful Anger

Word Count before Revising: 1,170
Word Count after Revising: 3,026
Number of Revisions: 172
Number of Rewritten Parts: 1
Date Finished Revising: 1/27/2018

~♡~♥~♡~

The first thing Gar noticed when he got home was the music. He had noticed it from the end of the hallway but he had previously assumed it was just one of their neighbors being rude. What he didn't account for was that it was coming from his apartment. That he was the rude neighbor in this scenario.

The second thing Gar noticed was the stench of paint wafting through the air upon entering his apartment. He wrinkled his nose at the smell; he had never been too fond of the scent of paint. He didn't even know where there was paint to be had here.

The third thing Gar noticed was the atmosphere. He could practically feel the annoyance and anger that was emitting from somewhere in this mess. He knew that Pat was mad, Gar could tell without even being in the same room as him. How to approach his pissed boyfriend, however, was a different story. The safest option would probably be to run in the opposite direction, but that would not be smart. Gar decided to approach it subtly, act nonchalant about it.

"Patrck?" Gar asked loudly into the depth of his apartment, where his voice was getting drowned out by the sounds of the loud music playing. "Babe, where are you?"

No answer was received. Well, no answer Gar could hear, at least. But that was to be expected, there was no way he was speaking louder than that blasted music and even if he managed to, there was no way he was going to be able to hear Patrck over it. He decided to just follow the music. As he made his way further into the flat, the smell got stronger and the music got louder. At some point in the trek, Gar had to give in and cover his ears to attempt to at least stifle the noise a little bit, to no avail. This was the point when the man seriously contemplated turning back and pretending he saw nothing and just coming back in a few hours or so. That did seem like the wiser option, after all.

However, Gar slowly continued on. It wasn't long until he got to the door in which the music was emitting. The first thing he noticed was poor little Dante curled up next to it whimpering with something (is that paint?) all over him. Gar sighed deeply before opening the door slowly, cautiously, even.

The scene Gar was faced with disturbed him to his core and created a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. There in front of him stood a very pissed off Patrck Static, shirtless, surrounded by buckets of various paint, covered head to toe in a multitude of colours, dipping his hands in the buckets, and flinging the paint across the room at all angles at walls that were covered in some kind of large paper. The smell was nothing but pungent to Gar and the sight made his heart hurt so bad he felt nauseous. He knew Pat could get pretty pissed but this was worse than anything he had ever seen.

There was a stereo next to the door, which was playing something really loud and obnoxious that was probably just there for the effect of it more than for any actual entertainment. Patrck didn't even seem to notice its existence in his rage. In fact, he didn't seem to be noticing anything. He was too lost in thought, and Gar could see the engines turning in his brain. He could see the destructiveness of his thoughts; the train was bouncing off walls and gliding past holes in its tracks, almost skidding off at each, mere minutes away from crashing in a vast explosion of self-destruction if the conductor didn't get its engines under control.

And the conductor was nowhere to be found.

Gar stood there for a few minutes, hands still covering his ears, just frozen at the sight of his boyfriend in the state he was in, violently flinging paint against the walls and making little furious noises that Gar would have found cute in any other situation. Right now, however, the scene was just painful to watch.