The Wind Blows

Her front teeth sunk into the soft skin of her bottom lip, as she pressed the bristles of the paint stained brush against the tightly framed canvas. Her concentration was at it's highest, and aimed to not be broken as she stood barefoot at the easel in nothing but an over sized white cotton t-shirt that barely covered her panty clad bum, with her dark chocolate hair tossed up into a messy bun atop her head. Her green eyes jumped from the still life that she'd set up nicely across from where she stood - a basket of fruit. It was wasn't much, but it was enough to steal her attention away from the boy who stood nearby, leaning against the frame of the doorway, with a smirk on his pink lips, and his arms crossed over his bare chest.

His hazel eyes were burning into her skin, but she simply ignored the weight of his presence, and kept her focus on the last few strokes that she had left to place on the colorfully coated canvas. She dipped her brush into the green paint, and listened to his subtle footsteps - one by one - the creaking of the floor below - as he quietly closed the distance that was set between them.

His warm breath could be felt along the back of her neck, striking the skin with every exhale his lungs produced - sending chills to shiver across her flesh, and down her spine. He carefully wrapped his arms around her small torso, cautious not to make any erratic movements that would catch her off guard, and disturb the simple strokes that she was left to create.

He blew some air against her neck through the slight part in his mouth, and pulled her back deeper into the crater of his chest before his lips began to slowly kiss the soft skin.

She winced at the damp feel before a smile curved on the end of her full crimson lips, "C'mon Ken I'm almost done. I just have a few more places to touch up."

She whined as she squirmed against his body, with his embrace only becoming tighter around her waist.

"Baby you've been working on it all morning," he mumbled with his lips pressed against her shoulder, "Since when did a painting earn more attention than your boyfriend?" He questioned, releasing a breathy laugh into the fabric of her shirt.

"I just never get time when Anna's around. She thinks it's messy, and impractical, or something along those lines."

She shrugged slightly, and sighed at the thoughts of her sisters constant nagging, and rants on how she was only wasting her time, and life by creating art that would never sell, or mean anything to anyone else.

"So I figured I'd paint some since she's not here ....and I thought you wouldn't mind." She confessed, with the brush still settled between her fingers as her body turned in his arms, and her eyes peered up into his.

"You know I don't mind."

He brought his fingers up from her waist to brush a few loose hairs out of her face. She had spots of yellow, and red paint marked across parts of her cheeks, and he smiled as he kissed her forehead lightly.

She released a shaky breath as his lips left her skin, before her eyes met his, and she held a slanted smirk on her tilted mouth.

"You know, you could use some color yourself."

She set her brush down on the easel, and dipped the ends of her fingers into the orange paint, as her teeth bit down on her lip in anticipation of if he'd let her get away with what she was about to do.

But before his tongue could find the words to speak, her fingers were already sliding down his chest, with the paint coloring his skin, and a smile tugging on both of their mouths. She tried to swallow the laughter that was on the edge of erupting inside her chest as her fingers dipped into the blue paint, and she stepped closer as her green eyes locked onto his.

His hand grabbed her wrist, and he pulled her body flush against his - the paint on his skin smothering against her shirt, while his breath hit her face. The blue paint started to drip from her fingers, but neither one seemed to react as it dripped onto the plastic that was laid out between the floor and their feet.

And he didn't waste another moment before leaning in further, and pressing his lips deep against hers. He dropped her wrist, and she melted from the taste of his lips as he pulled the hem of her shirt over her head, and dropped it to the floor at their feet.

Their bodies were covered in blue and orange paint, but they didn't seem to care as he wrapped his arms around her waist to lift her from the floor, so she was able to wrap her legs around his thin hips.

Her heart was burning with the beats inside her chest, as he pressed his body further into hers until her back was being pushed flush against the wall, and his hair was nothing but a deep shade of indigo blue from her painted fingers that were brushing through his brown roots.

"Kenny-" She huffed out a breath, as she searched for a single gasp of air when his kiss swollen lips managed to stray away from hers, to nibble at the soft skin beneath her earlobe.

He grunted against her neck, as she released a throaty moan from the feel of him pressing against her through the cotton of his boxers. She wrapped her arms as tight as she could around his shoulders while his rough palms managed to crawl up to her chest, and she was doing all she could do to hold back the first wave of ecstasy that was burning, and aching to rack through her body at any moment.

Her green eyes stared mindlessly at the canvas. It's paint was old, but the memories it held were still fresh in her mind. She'd lost track of time, and had been staring at the unfinished painting for hours now. The sun had set outside of her window, and it was now dark - the moon shining it's brightest amoungst the stars that were only seen somewhere beyond the city lights.

The brush was settled between her fingers, but she was stuck, and couldn't find the will to finish any parts of what she had started. She couldn't stop thinking about the last time she'd pressed a brush to the picture, and it was hard enough amongst the silence that was ringing inside her ears.

It was just a simple painting - a simple basket of fruit painted on a canvas, with a few dots of blue, and orange paint spattered on its surface from when she last worked on it. It shouldn't mean so much to her, because it held so much pain in its memory, but it did.

"That's a really beautiful painting."

She jumped from her skin at the sound of his voice speaking from the nearby doorway - the brush falling from her fingertips, and to the floor, from the startled rage that her heart was trying to over come.

"Shit," he muttered beneath his breath as he came closer, and picked the brush off the floor, before handing it over to her, with an apologetic smirk on his lips.

"Sorry - I uh didn't mean to startle you. The door was unlocked, and I left you a text, so I uh figured you knew I was coming-"

She waved him off with her hand as she closed her eyes for a split moment, "No it - it's fine, really."

John looked at her, and than back at the painting as he tucked his hands into his tightly stitched pockets.

"I didn't know you painted."

She set her brush down on the easel with paint still sitting in the same spot that it had been for hours now, drying up in the process. Her eyes shifted to him as she crossed her arms over her chest, "I used too a lot - but I rarely do anymore."

He nodded his head, and pressed no further with any questions once he saw the expression fall on her face, and a slight frown pull on her lips.

He cleared his throat, and ran a few loose fingers through his golden brown hair before speaking, "There's some take out in the kitchen that I picked up on the way over, if you're hungry."

She smiled up at him, even though it was forced, but the sound of food was always something that she could never pass up. So they walked out of the room, and she hit the light switch on the wall, putting everything in the dark, including the past, before the door was pulled closed, with nothing changed from where it had been when she started.

**

Both of their eyes were attracted to the television screen as they sat on the couch in silence. Her head was turned as it laid in his lap, and she liked the way he would brush his fingers lightly through her hair every once in a while, without ever really knowing that he was doing it, or if what he was doing was okay.

His eyes peered down at the girl, and he watched her smile, and laugh softly at an old rerun of "FRIENDS" that was flashing across the plasma screen.

"I love this show," she smiled, and grinned lightly as he kept his eyes on her.

"I know."

She kept her focus on the television screen, even with the feel of his eyes staring down at her, "But I hate how Ross and Rachel go through seven seasons without ever realizing that they're perfect for one another. It doesn't make sense."

He laughed at her, and shook his head slightly, "Wouldn't that be kind of predictable, and dull if they already knew though?"

She scoffed, and rolled her eyes, "That's not my point."

"Then what?" He questioned as he combed his long fingers once more through her hair, and ran his knuckles across the side of her face.

"I don't know," she shrugged her shoulders lightly, "I mean I'd just hate to think that I'd wasted seven years of my life wondering what it would be like to spend every moment with someone that I loved, instead of actually doing it."

She rolled her head in his lap, and her green eyes met his in the process as he gazed down at her in silence. The way he was looking at her made her nervous, and she couldn't help the queasy churn in the pit of her stomach as he moved his fingers across her skin. She liked the way his fingers felt - the way they were rough instead of soft - the way they made her want to close her eyes, and just forget the weight of the stress that was weighing down on her shoulders.

She closed her eyes, before opening them again - he was still peering down at her, like he was itching to speak, or say something that was sitting on the tip of his tongue.

But he kept his mouth shut. And all that could be heard was silence to cover up the sound of narration from the television barely playing in the background of both their thoughts. He leaned down, and lightly kissed her forehead. She kept her eyes focused his soft lips when he raised his head up to peer down at the girl in his lap.

He rolled his lips together, and struggled to push back any thoughts that were surfacing to the front of his mind. The way she was looking up at him told him that everything would be okay, but even so he still wasn't quiet sure.

"You alright?"

"Yeah - I'm fine," he whispered softly, letting his eyes travel back to the TV, as she continued to gaze up at him from below.

"John."

"Yeah?" He looked down once more into her mossy eyes.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" she let her eyes drift away before falling back to his, "I don't want to be alone - not tonight."

He brought his fingers back to her soft hair - the look in her pale eyes showed him that she was scared, and so he made sure to speak his next words carefully, "I'll stay for as long as you need me."

"Promise you'll come back home to me?"

She laughed softly as she smiled up into his sea green eyes, but he wasn't sure if she was teasing or not.

"I promise."

He looped his pinky around hers, and pressed his thin lips into her forehead. And after kissing her on the lips a few more times, he took a step back, and looked over to the girl who stood close by.

"Take care of her Dani okay, and don't let her do anything stupid while I'm gone," he forced a small smile, and winked at her, but she knew he was dead serious in everything that he was saying.

"C'mon John - it's time to hit the road," Jared yelled from inside the compact van that had taken several days to load up for their tour.

"I'll be right there," he turned back around, and pressed his fingers to his lips as he blew a kiss to the blue eyed girl who mouthed a silent 'I love you' in return, "Be good while I'm gone. And I'll see you when I get back."

And that was the last real words exchanged between them - no more was said as he squeezed into the van with the rest of the crew, and they headed off to another city that wouldn't be the same without her in it.

They'd be back in two months - two months, and he wouldn't have to worry any longer. And in all honesty he didn't think two months was a long enough time for things to go wrong - he didn't think two months could do so much damage - he never thought that in less than two months everything would become something that he would soon find hard to handle.

But if he thought any of those things, he would've thought wrong. Because it was the voicemail that he received five weeks into the tour that made his heart break inside his chest at every word that was being poured against his ear. And suddenly he changed his mind on everything, and nothing seemed the way it should.

"John - hey it's Dani. I - I'm really sorry to call you like this - I know you're busy. But - I really think you should come home. There's something wrong with Anna."