"FUCK!" I hear a yell coming from my boyfriend's recording room. I walked in when I heard a loud bang after him yelling the curse word.
I see his paint pots and canvas on the floor. Paint splattered on the walls and John sitting on his desk chair with his head in his hands. "Babe." My voice makes his head lift from his hands.
"What's going on in here?" I ask looking at all of the mess. He pulled me onto his lap. "I'm sorry. I just tried to paint and it went so crappy and shit so I-."
I cut him off by kissing him, he was having a panic attack and that's one of the things that can calm him down and slow down his heart.
"Calm down, it's not the end of the world." I say to him as he groans. "I ache as well."
I smirk and get up going behind him and massaging his shoulders. He exhales slowly.
"That feels better." He said as I keep doing that in silence.
All of a sudden, I look to the floor to see a massive dollop of red paint right where I'm standing. I duck down to grab some in my hand and scrap it across his cheek. Which was probably a mistake.
He gasps and chuckles. "Oh you are so dead." He stands up grabbing paint and I scream as he throws some blue paint on my white t-shirt. "John!" I yell while laughing.
"You started it!" He yelled back with a smirk.
I then lean down and pick up some more paint to protect myself and fight back.
I grab some purple and hit his torso with it. He scoffs as like he was saying 'good try'.
He picks up some other paints and throws it back at me before running at me and picking me up and pushing me against
the wall as I was in his arms.
"What are you gonna do now?"
He asks with a smirk as I try to get out
of his grip. "You're an asshole." I say to him.
"Oh am I?" He asks. I nod.
"Yes you are."
He kissed me on the lips passionately but
Also kind of aggressively and the next thing we know, we're in bed together.