365 Days.

“Get your hands off me.”
I feel Mickel hesitate slightly before pulling those hands away.
Ugh.
Dirty.
I feel so dirty.
Just one touch of those hands,
and I feel like I need to bathe and shower for days.

“You’re not very nice,”
Mickel spins me around and looks at me with a pout.

I look at him with a firm look,
wishing that the teacher would hurry up and return.

I’m here to work on my painting during break,
don't know why Mickel is here,
but I have guesses.
And out of all the times she could leave,
the art teacher leaves now.

Leaving me and him.
Alone.
Lord help me.

He places his hands on my hips again,
“What’s wrong,
cutie-pie?”

“I said,
get your hands off-”
I’m interrupted by the sound of a door opening.
Quickly pushing away from Mickel,
I look up to see the teacher-no.
Wait.
Not the teacher.
To see Chase standing in the doorway.

He looks at me,
then at Mickel.
“What the fuck is going on here?”

“Oh…Nothing,”
I bite my lip,
grabbing my paintbrush,
starting to mix some colors together that I wont need.
Anything to keep me busy.

Mickel looks over at Chamber,
lazy look on his face.
“Who are you?”

“Who am I?”
Chase snorts,
“I’m fucking Chase.
Question here is,
Who the hell are you?”

Mickel smirks a little,
“Mickel.
Remember my name,
you’ll be cursing it one day.”

“Damn right I will,
I mean,
look at your face.
Something only a mother could love.”
Chase moves through the class to stand near me.

Mickel growls,
“Got a fucking problem?”

“I got ninety nine problems,
and you ain’t one.”
Chase replies nonchalantly,
Then gestures to me,
“You leave him alone.”

Though I hide it,
inside I’m surprised.
Huh?

A brow raises on Mickel’s face.
“Leave this little thing alone?
I think not.
It’s too good to be mistreated by you.
You don’t own him anyways.”

“Hell yeah,
just to pound your face in,
so it comes out your ass.”
Chase rolls his sleeves up.

Mickel does some unearthly growl,
prepares to pounce.

And just as they’re about to launch themselves at each other,
I flick my paintbrush to land paint on their faces,
stopping them.
“No.”
I say,
frowning at them,
“No fighting.”

They both glare at me,
and even though I know the fight isn’t about me,
but about their pride and dignity and all that crap,
I still don’t want a fight here.
There’s too much precious artwork that could be destroyed.