Paint It Black

Sunny's POV

I stayed at Tyler's for the night, at his begging, and slept beside him in his bed. I would get out of bed just to smoke, when my head began to over think. Tyler didn't smoke, he had quit a few months back, but he let me smoke as much as I pleased.

Smoking is definitely a stress reliever, and let my mind drift onto unimportant things. Apart from the pills and painting, cigarettes took me away.

I sat on his counter, cigarette in between my fingers, and my legs crossed. A coffee mug was beside me, cooling off.

"Sunny?" Brendon crept into the kitchen, "What are you doing here?"

I turned to the entry way, a tired Brendon, shirt off, pajama bottoms hugging his bony hips, hair a mess, came strolling in. I tossed my dead butt into the sink, "I came over last night," I told him.

He nodded, letting out a small 'oh'. He went to the fridge, grabbing an orange juice, "Is Ty asleep?" I nodded.

"I'm gonna go," I grabbed the coffee mug, "Tell Tyler, okay?"

He nodded, returning to the entry way. I hopped off the counter, taking a big sip of the mug, and putting it in the sink. I walked out the kitchen, grabbed my flats next to the hall, and began out the door.
-

I shut my phone off, turned my iPod on to play Hybrid Theory, and went down to the basement. I didn't want to think today, last night drained me. I put on my old Social Distortion shirt, my favorite that I had ruined, and grabbed my paints.

I grabbed a small, blank canvas, a brush and began to stroke. I was thankful for these stupid pills, I felt so numb, someone could stab me and I doubt I'd feel it. 

Same old story, without a new line.

I got caught up again, lost in the blues and greens as I painted. What the hell was I painting anyway, I thought. Why would it matter?

"Sunny?" Chris' voice broke the silence as my iPod stopped Linkin Park.

"Yeah?" I called up.

"Someone here to see you!" 

I rolled my eyes, must be Mikey; if it was anyone that Chris was familiar with he would have sent them down. I dropped the paint brush, put my ipod onto the table beside the stairs, and jogged up the long stone basement stairs. I wiped my mucky hands on my shirt.

"Who is--" I was cut off by Frank standing at the kitchen entryway, Chris at the sink, "Oh."

"Can we talk?" Frank asked meekly as Chris watched us.

"Where's mom?" I turned to Chris.

"Having brunch with Mrs. Andrews down the street," Chris turned to the coffee pot, beginning to brew.

"Oh...," I turned to Frank, "we can go to the guest room," I mumbled, "or the basement."

He shrugged, "Wherever is fine."

I looked to Chris, who was beginning to mess with his phone, "Basement, I'm not finished."

Frank nodded and followed me as I turned my heel and began down the stone stairs. He closed the door behind us, darkening the stairs. I made it to the bottom, where I turned on the other extra light, and grabbed the chair from the dark room side. Frank stood by the stairs, watching me.

"You paint?" he asked as I turned back to him.

"Yeah," I answered quickly, "you can sit."

"I'd rather stand," he said, shifting with his hands dug into his jeans.

"Alright, so what'd you come for?" I asked, turning to my painting.

"Is that your favorite Social Distortion shirt?" he started, ignoring my question.

I turned back, my paint brush between my fingers, "Yeah," I asked confused, "why?"

He stepped closer, taking his hands out, "You love this shirt," he took my arm, "you were wearing this when we first got together."

I raised my brow, "It's just a shirt," I gave him a weird look.

He let go of my arm, "It just reminds me of you."

I waved him off and went back to my painting, not really paying attention, "Tell me why you're here, please."

He gave a heavy sigh, "I want to know what happened the day before. Why'd you run out?"

"The pills wore off," I told him honestly, "it was like someone took a blindfold off my eyes."

He stepped behind me, "The pills make you forget how much of an asshole I was?"

I turned back to him, "Yep."

He looked hurt, like I hit him in the chest, "Cutting ties again?"

I shook my head, "No, I just don't want to get caught up with you, again."

"Can't we just forget everything?" he looked upset, "Why can't you get over it?"

I sighed, hoping that my emotions would be still and buried, "Do you think I want to feel this way? Feeling like a robot? Having to take pills to keep from going crazy everyday?" my mind was turning over, emotions coming with it, "Believe me, I want to get over this, I really do." my face grew hot.

"Why can't we start over?"

"I don't want to start over!" I ran hand over my face, "I don't want you!"

He rushed over to me, cupping my face and kissing me. I put my hands to his chest, protesting, but he held on. His hands made their way to my waist and pulled me closer to his body. I tried fighting, but my body began to respond differently. 

I gave up.

I let Frank take over, kissing and his hands fiddling around my waist. He pulled me over to old, wooden table, lifting me onto it. His lips buried on my neck, kissing softly, and then pulling away. Our eyes met, and I was feeling so confused and torn.

"What are you doing?" I asked, pushing him away.

"I...I don't know what came over me," he stepped back, "I'm sorry."

I got off the table, "You should go," I told him, "we shouldn't be doing this."

He sighed, "I didn't mean to do it, it's just...I missed you so much."

I rubbed my lips, feeling them swell, "Please, just go."

He shook his head, "I can't...I don't want to."

I furrowed my brows at him, "What are you talking about?"

"I love you, Sunny--"

I cut him off, "Frank, I don't want to do this with you, not anymore."

He frowned at him, unsure what to do next, "I've waited so long..." he trailed.

"I care about you, okay, Frank, I really do, but I don't want to be with you."

"Because of Tyler?"

I coursed my hair, "Yes and no."

"What's so great about him anyways? He's a--"

I cut him off, "Don't start, Tyler has nothing to do with me and you!"

"Yes he does! What did he do to you?" he squared me up, "You fucking changed so much! You don't look the same anymore! You're hiding--"

"He didn't do anything to me! I changed on my own, and I'm not hiding! I drink, smoke, paint and get tattoos because I fucking can! No one has forced me to do anything."

He stood there for a moment, shifting, "I don't want to fight with you, Sunny. I love you, way too much, to keep fighting."

"You don't need to fight with me, we have nothing to be fighting over. We dated, we moved on, it's done. There is nothing keeping us together."

He tweaked his lips, "Alright..." he turned and started up the stairs. I watched his disappear behind the door, and shook my head.

What the hell did I get myself into?
-

A little after Frank left, I went upstairs to eat and relax. My mind was running crazily and I needed to relax. I made myself some steam veggies and went to watch tv. To my surprise, my mom was sitting in the couch, by herself.

"Hey," she said nicely as I sat beside her.

"Hey ma," I put the bowl of veggies on my lap.

"I felt like I haven't seen you in forever," she chuckled as she switched the channels.

"We've both been busy," I shrugged.

"Yeah," she mumbled softly.

Both of our eyes were fixated on the tv, watching the evening news; it was only 5. I chewed and watched, avoiding awkward conversation with mom. It was hard to just spring a conversation with her.

"How is everyone back in Chicago?" she asked suddenly.

"Butcher and Jack are good. Butch has an art gallery coming up and then they're going on tour," I informed her.

Mom nodded, "Are you going along?"

I shrugged, not knowing for sure, "I dunno, probably."

Mom hummed a response, "Chris told me someone came over earlier..." she trailed, trying to push.

I sighed, dropping the warm piece of carrot I had been eating, "Yeah...Uh, it was Frank," I looked at her, "don't worry, nothing's going on."

She nodded, unsure of what to say, so didn't say a thing. I knew what she was thinking though; that I was stupid for talking to him, for getting involved again. I knew everything she wanted to say, but spared my feelings, and I didn't want to hear it.

"Is Mikey around?" she asked a few minutes later.

"Yep," I popped a piece of broccoli in my mouth.

"Are you okay?" she looked at me, I kept my eyes on the screen.

"Peachy, mom."

I didn't want to get into a fight with my mom by yelling about talking to me the way my doctor does, so I shut up. This trip couldn't have been anymore complicated than I thought it'd be. All I wanted was to go back to Chicago and continue with my mundane lifestyle.