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Colour Me by Teensabre

One Part

RED I'm chewing the end of the brush again. I take the instrument out of my mouth, and begin to make small, smooth circles in the red paint with it. My pallette slips down my sweating thumb, and there's a painful red ring on my thumb where the plastic seam dug in. I wipe the hair of the brush on the side of the pallette, and watery red paint streams down the side like blood. I point the brush towards the crisp whiteness of my canvas, squinting a little in attempt to get my co-ordinates right. Then like a missile, I go straight for the gleaming white. My brush makes contact, and with a faint stroke of the brush I make my first line. I flick my wrist, and the red line changes direction. Red, the colour of intense heat. . .some would say passion. The colour of a Valentine's rose. The colour you make me feel inside. It's as if I were a pool of water, and you had dropped a bead of rich colour into me. Like colour spreads through water, infatuation with you spread through me. And it happened instantly, like the contact of my brush to the paper; the touch of your fingers to my face. You left me feeling red inside and out. I've finished with the red now. I lean over, feeling the stool object to my movements, and dip my bleeding brush into the water. PINK I swirl my brush in the water for a little longer than necessary, enjoying the feel of the brush in my hands swirling through the water. My wrist aches a little, but it's only in fatigue - a feeling I can easily shake off. I decide to choose my next colour, my eyes flicking towards the pallette. Pink catches my eye, and I laugh silently, my top lip sticking to my teeth a little. I'm laughing because the pink reminds me of our little Kami-sama. Although. . .he's not so little, it's my pet name for him. My brush waves through the air and lands in the middle of the pink, and tiny pinks flecks land outside the pocket that is reserved for the pink paint. I tut through my teeth, scolding myself. It funny though . . . Kami-sama was the first to realise that we were in love. I was surprised, firstly because I didn't think our feelings for each other were that obvious, and secondly because I would have thought Kami would be the last to find out, bless him . . . He didn't seem to mind that his bandmates had fallen in love. I'd always liked Kami, but he didn't make me blush. Like you do. The paint comes in contact with the paper again, and I lean forward intently. The pink swirls upon the white - it's like me, blushing and vulnerable, even under the white make-up I wear for those such occasions. I lean for the water cup, although I'm keeping my eye on the pallette. Which colour next! ORANGE Orange, bright and vibrant, like the juicy, bitter-tasting citrus that takes its name. I flick the brush across the already full canvas, only wanting to use a little of this colour. I haven't made a duff stroke yet, and I'm surprised. Maybe it's because my inspiration is the most fantastic of all. You laughed when I dyed my hair orange, but I liked to think that you were a touch shocked. My image does shock people, doesn't it? It certainly didn't shock you, not at first. You ambushed me in the bedroom that same night I'd decided to dye my elaborate coiffure orange - with no more than a freshly peeled and sliced citrus arrangement. I now look at my wrists, my arms, my chest, and imagine the orange stains still there from our little escapade. The orange was bitter, your lips were sweet - the perfect contrast of bitter-and-sweet. That's what I hope this painting will come out as. I touch my thumb to my tongue for a moment and rub at my infamous blue dress where there's a spot of pink, which must have lingered from the last colour I used. Yes, I kept the dress on that you love so much even for painting. YELLOW The orange is over, faded on my brush. It reminds me of the end of a summer carnival, the coloured floats drifting off into the distance just a blur of orange and red. I don't know why this thought catches me though. I'm full of strange thoughts nowadays . . . Yellow. I lift my brush to eye level, and see a drop of yellow paint on the brush that hovers on the end of the hairs - I find myself waiting for it to make its falling-star descent to the floor. Good job I took the liberty of spreading down a sheet across the wooden floor before I started to paint. What does yellow remind me of? I'm dotting the paper, making round prints with scratchy little edges. As I dart my brush across the paper, I'm thinking of how you look in the morning. Your face was streaked with the yellow sunshine that had seeped through the blinds, come to stroke your face with golden fingers. Yellow, for the sunshine that we watched from the window, just the two of us. The sunshine pouring over both our bodies in the morn, making us both seem like angels. For some reason, I'm reminded of Yuki. I'm reminded of Yuki, only because I knew yellow was a typical colour to describe the way I felt when we told Yuki - cowardice. The horrible, sickening pale yellow, not like the rich mellow feeling that I get from you. I wasn't afraid of Yuki, more afraid of the situation that we were in. Yuki took it surprisingly well, almost too well . . . Just as well as Kami had taken it. I thought that Yuki had a certain regard for Kami, actually. You'd laughed when I'd said that, too. We all seem to laugh a lot now. GREEN All of a sudden I find I'm finished with the yellow. I look at my picture, trying out different angles - I lean to the left, to the right, back a little, forward a little, I tilt back my head and then look at it through my eyelashes. It looks . . . Indescribable. Maybe a little incomplete. I chose green next. Green - what's that nagging thought at the back of my mind? Green signifies go, move ahead, straight on. Was our relationship developing too fast, or was I not thinking quick enough? It doesn't matter now. We're together, and looking back over the past few months I wouldn't change a thing. Something else - green for jealousy. We'd told two of our closest friends, but what about the third? Would he be pleased, or spurned? I didn't know why I'd fet that way, and i still don't know why now. Gackt. There had been a time when I was attracted to Gackt, a time before I got to feel the power of you. Then I saw the deep regard he had for Kami, and how that regard was mirrored, etched on Kami's face. I'd been a little hurt, maybe jealous. but he'd had no reason to be jealous of us! I have to admit, though: When I saw Kami and Gackt kiss, I had been jealous. Mana-green-eyes, for the whole of the next week. I was blinded when the green eyed monster reared its ugly head. I think I'd even spat at Kami then, something I refused to forgive myself for. Kami pulled no punches with me, or with going for Gackt's attention - he wasn't coquettish and slow like me, nor did he hide his emotions behind pale make-up. The way he'd gone for Gackt, though . . . I'm laughing out loud now - even Yuki-chan had been surprised. Gackt had walked in on us, hadn't he? I was curled up like a child in your strong arms, our lips locked in a burning kiss, on this very bed behind me. Gackt had left as quickly as he'd come, but I knew he'd been there. He owed us one for that, I felt, until Kami had kissed Gakun in front of us all. Imagine Kami giving Gackt a swollen lip the next morning! BLUE I rock back on the stool, remembering Yuki teasing Gakun that morning, then I stop laughing because I feel a little damp patch on the outside of my thigh - I've stubbed my brush on my lolita dress. Damn! Luckily it only looks like a little spot of damp, and it shouldn't be visible. You'll probably uncover it later, I think, and my lips give way to a smile. My next colour is blue, my personal favourite. I'm wearing blue lipstick now - see that trace of it on the end of the brush, where I was chewing it earlier? And I have the blue dress on, fanning out way over my legs and feet and acting as a cushion for my thighs and buttocks on the hard wood of the artist's stool. I knew you liked me in this dress. My mind suddenly slips into a hentai thought, and I hastily replace my brush so I can slap my wrists. Bad, bad Mana! I flick my brush and start hastily painting, getting more and more into it now. My picture is beginning to take shape now. I make my first mistake, where a big glob of blue runs into some not-yet-dry green paint and starts to make a tiny river down the canvas. A quick blotting job with the tissue I use just for that purpose, and it's done and dusted. Blue reminds me of neon lights, too . . . the ones that flash above our heads as we lay in the bed. I complained and said that they hurt my eyes, and you'd silenced my whinging by kissing my eyelids, and then your lips began the descent down my body. I squirm, partially because I'm nearly finished. I hope you'll like my picture. WHITE I am finished! With a deep sigh of accomplishment, I start to pack up my brushes and paints, emptying the water cup out of the window in laziness. The water inside is a muddy brown, not at all pretty and colourful like it should be. You're coming home soon, I can feel it in my bones. I'm going pink, trembling like an excited little child. I pack my canvas in the corner, by the last scraps of sunlight in the room to dry. It's almost dried anyway, but I also want to hide it from you. Ah! You're here, you're here at last. "Mana-Chan?" "Hurry up Kozi, I have something to show you!" I'm dragging you along by your hand now, eager for you to come and see. You smile a blinding smile that makes my knees weaken, and drop your bag into a vacant spot of the room. I drag you into the bedroom. "Close your eyes," I tease, and leave your side to get my painting. I position the canvas in front of you, and make you open your eyes. You don't look at my picture at first, inspecting the room, until a giggle from me focuses your eyes. Your mouth opens a little, your eyes widen, and its as if you've taken my brush and coloured my cheeks pink. "It's not that good," I insist, but your eyes say it all. "It's a masterpiece, Mana-chan." "D'you think it's one for keeps?" I ask. You answer by snaking a warm hand around my waist. "Oh . . . definately," you purr into my ear, drawing me close to you. "Are we alone, Kozi-sama?" "Yes." A knowing smile. I dance a little in your arms. "Then colour me." Thank you! ~ Teensabre Bondiawel

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