Paint Stains and Blood Drops

Paint Stains & Blood Drops

'Shit, shit, shit...' Philip thought as he shoved the spray paints into the bag. He wasn't supposed to be out late, let alone out spray painting a wall, let alone the building right next to his father's work. Georges told him he shouldn't have picked that alleyway to work. He should have listened. He got caught this time. He knew someone had seen him. The seventeen-year-old looked down at his hands, stained with paint. His parents wouldn't approve of it. He took off the spray mask, shoving it into the bag. Which wasn't a smart move. Whoever saw him now knew who he was.
George stared at Philip, crossing his arms. "Again? Really?" His voice showed disappointment. "I'm fairly fucking sure I kept you in a cell overnight as a lesson. Didn't you learn from that?" This was not the first time the young cop had caught the teenager. Philip had a habit of getting in trouble, and George was always the one to catch him.
Philip cursed under his breath. "I was going to do it again anyway..." He muttered, standing up as he slung the bag over his shoulder. "I don't see why art should be illegal." He huffed. Art was art. And wasn't freedom of expression a human right or something?
"You're vandalizing public property! People actually have to work hard to cover up the shit that people like you do." George stood up straight, walking toward Philip.
Philip looked up at what he painted on the wall. "I'm not tagging the wall. I'm making an effort to make something that people would like to look at."
"It's still vandalizing shit. And remember when I told you, that if you do it again you'll be in jail and your father will have to bail you out?" George tapped his foot on the ground.
Philip cursed again. "Shit..." The last thing he wanted was for his father to find out about his late night graffiti sessions.
"If, by some miracle, you manage to clean up the wall before sunrise, then I won't lock you up."
"Come on, you know that'll be impossible!" Philip complained.
"Better get to work, Hamilton. I'll be right here the whole time," George said. There was a hint of a smirk on his face.
"I don't even have anything to clean the wall!"
"Don't you have some wall colored spray paint or some shit?"
Philip scowled and took his bag off. He pulled out the mask and a can that closely matched the colour of the wall. "It's close enough."
"You know what?" George looked over to his side. "The sun is rising right now. "
"You knew it'd be impossible..." Philip mumbled.
"I'll let you have an extra five minutes."
Philip put the mask on and shook the can before he began to try and cover it up.
George just-- started checking Philip out. "Damn." He said under his breath.
Philip tried his best to try and cover it all up evenly. He glanced back at George for a moment. He couldn't deny the fact that he may have a small crush on the young cop that always caught him.
George looked away, pretending to be picking at his nails. He felt the same way about Philip, he'd fallen for the teenage graffiti artist.
Philip frowned and turned back to the wall. He was quickly running out of paint. There was no way that he'd be able to cover it all up.
George looked back over at Philip, biting his lip just a tiny bit.
Philip snuck another look at George before shaking the can. He had covered most of his art before he ran out of paint. "Shit..."
George sighed, looking up at Philip's face. "Whelp, time's up."
"It's not done..." Philip mumbled, taking off his mask and dropping the empty can.
"Yeah, I know. Let's go." George got the handcuffs from off of his belt.
Philip sighed, picking up his bag and shoving the mask inside before walking over to George.
George put the handcuffs on Philip from the front, because he knows putting someone's hands behind their back hurts like hell. "Stop pouting, I'll get you McDonald's on the way."
"Seriously?" Philip said as he followed George to his car.
"Yes. What do you want?" George opened the door for Philip, allowing him to sit in the passenger seat.
Philip frowned slightly and got into the car. This wasn't exactly what he had expected. "...I'll have a cheeseburger." He mumbled after a moment.
"Do you want a drink too?" George went around to the driver's seat.
"And a chocolate milkshake." He said, glancing at him.
"Do you want a happy meal or some shit?" George laughed, starting to drive down the road.
"No..." Philip mumbled, shifting slightly in his seat.
George stayed quiet after that, hearing a radio signal that there's a bank robbery down on sixth street. His eyes widened as he turned on his whateverthehellthoselightsarecalled and sped to the destination.
Philip glanced at George again before he looked out the window. Looks like he was going to be sitting here for a while.
"Stay here-- I'll be back." George got out of the car, pulling out his gun and entering the bank.
Philip nodded and watched out the window. But as soon as George got through the door, a pain spread all across his body. He fell back against the door, wheezing and trying to breathe correctly.
Philip's eyes widened as he saw George fall back. He fumbled with the seatbelt, watching George.
George stumbled out the door, coughing violently. He collapsed right after.
Philip managed to get the seatbelt off and pushed open the door, climbing out of the car. He rushed over to George. "George!"
George was on his side, clutching his stomach. "Oh god....P-Phili-" he went into another coughing fit.
"Shit, shit, shit..." Philip mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He dialed 911.
George slowly laid his head on Philip's lap, trying to be comfortable.
Philip looked down at George. He soon hung up and put his phone down. "An ambulance is on its way.." His voice was shaking slightly.
George started to close his eyes. He was mumbling things like, "Philip don't let me slip away." And "I don't want to die."
"Just... Just keep talking to me, okay?" Philip tried to smile, running his fingers through George's hair. "You'll be okay..."
George tried to keep his eyes open. "P-Pip, please--"
"I-I can't do much. Handcuffs..." Philip mumbled. "I don't want you to die, either."
George searched around for the keys.
Philip looked up, hoping that the ambulance would be there soon.
George hands Philip the keys to the handcuffs.
Philip unlocked his handcuffs and proceeded to take off his hoodie. He pressed it onto George's wound to try and stop the bleeding.
George heard a car park near the bank and he silently hoped that it was an ambulance.
Philip looked up. His face fell when he realised that it wasn't an ambulance. No, he recognised the car. "Shit..."
Alexander practically jumped out of the car, racing toward Philip. "Where have you been?!"
"That's not important at the moment!" Philip snapped as he looked down at George.
Alexander looked at Philip, then to George, then to Philip again. "...Is that your boyfriend?"
"No..." Philip blushed lightly. "Not yet anyway..." He mumbled, holding his hoodie in place. "He's just a friend."
"Why is there a handcuff hanging off one of your wrists?" Alexander asked with a frown.
"Not important right now!" Philip brushed the question off.
Alexander glanced around awkwardly.
Philip sighed. "I was arrested, okay?" He said quietly, looking down at George.
"Philip, what the fuck--"
"I was spray painting the building next to your work. George caught me. Again." He looked around again, relieved when he heard the sirens.
"That's not too bad. I thought you stole somethin--"
George cut him off. "He stole my heart." He mumbled, high off of blood loss.
Philip's attention turned back to George, his face going red. "I'm going with him in the ambulance."
George hugged Philip's arm while Alexander got back into his car and drove off.
"You'll be okay, the ambulance is here." He smiled faintly, glancing up at the ambulance.
"Thank,,, Pip." George couldn't even speak proper English.
"Of course, George.." He said quietly. The medics came over to them. Philip followed them to the ambulance.
---
A nurse came out into the waiting room, a regretful look on his face. "Sir, George won't be able to make it... He wants to see you before he... You know."
Philip stood up, nodding slowly. "O-Okay..." He said quietly. He followed the nurse to George's room, his hands shaking.
George weakly smiled at Philip, reaching for his hand.
Philip wiped his eyes, sitting down in the chair next to his bed as he took his hand.
"....I love you, Pip."
"I... I love you too, George..." He smiled weakly.
George pulled Philip into a hug, not caring about the pain he felt.
Philip hugged him back, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried his hardest not to cry.

Then, George flatlined.

Philip let out a sob, unable to stop the tears. He didn't let go of George.

He also never touched a spray can again. After all, the one other thing he loved doing was tainted with the memory of George, the reason why he did it. And now he was gone, and no one saw Philip's street art again.