Evan didn’t paint people. The curves of their bodies and angles of their faces never interested him as much as cityscapes. The circumstances of his life had compelled him to create new worlds that he could get lost in rather than reflect the features of the people he ran from. He constructed buildings from their foundations, making them taller and stronger than he felt. He adorned edifices with countless windows, always left open or cracked so hope could pour in and fears could seep out. Tree-lined streets reminded him how to breathe, pumping oxygen through the atmosphere, off the canvas, and into his lungs.
He didn’t paint people until the day he no longer desired the anonymity of his cities. The streets didn’t feel like his escape anymore, not like Jackson did. Cerulean skies gave way to pale blue eyes and bus routes to pink pouts.
Evan didn’t paint people until he painted Jackson.
His features were perfect; from the gentleness in his eyes to the thickness of his thighs, the fullness of his lips, to the cuts of his hips. Evan had noticed how gorgeous Jackson was when they first hooked up, but it was different now. A man who had been so brash and hard was dropping his guard, and the moments of softness only made him more breathtaking. Jackson was the most beautiful contradiction, so Evan made his paintings the same. Fingers grasped the stems of vibrant flowers while crimson blood poured from an adoring gaze.
He didn’t get overly excited. He’d learned from an early age how to keep his affect flat. It was easier that way. Becoming too invested led to hurt and while physical pain was manageable, emotional pain was not. The swell of feelings that were surging inside him, coupled with the rush of cocaine, had become overwhelming. Dropping his paint brush to the hardwood floor, he watched as red paint splattered against it. Without thought he pressed his palms against Jackson’s claret tears, smearing them to the sides of the canvas; scarlet sunbursts. The stinging in his eyes prompted him to lift his paint-covered hands to his cheeks and wipe away his own sadness, or maybe it was happiness; he couldn’t tell.
He sat on the floor for a while, staring up at the painting, idly wondering if he loved it or hated it and what it meant either way. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been studying it when he heard his phone vibrate. Rubbing his hands against his bare torso to clean them off, he crawled to his bed to grab it.
Jackson (10:46pm): U around?
Evan (10:47pm): What’s up?
Jackson (10:47pm): Gotta talk to U
Evan (10:48pm): Sounds like I’m in trouble
Jackson (10:48pm): U wish
Jackson (10:48pm) U R trouble though
Evan (10:49pm): Heard that b4
Jackson (10:50pm): I bet
Jackson (10:51pm): Come over
Evan (10:52pm): 3 nights in a row?
Jackson (10:52pm): U got a problem with that?
Evan (10:53pm): Not at all. Think ur getting attached tho
Jackson (10:54pm): I’m not
Evan (10:55pm): Ur not?
Jackson (10:58pm): Am I supposed 2 be?
Evan (10:59pm): I dunno
Jackson (11:05pm): Ur fucking weird
Jackson (11:06pm): Get ur stupid freckled ass over here
Evan (11:07pm): Wait I have freckles on my ass?
Jackson (11:07pm): Ur about to have me on ur ass. When R u gonna be here?
Evan (11:08pm): Hour. I have to shower. Was painting and got shit all over me.
Jackson (11:09pm): Tagging aint paintin
Evan (11:10pm): It literally is & diff kind of painting
Jackson (11:10pm): With a fucking paintbrush n shit?
Evan (11:11pm): Like that
Jackson (11:11pm): U Paint?
Evan (11:12pm): Yes with a fucking paintbrush & everything
Jackson (11:12pm): No shit what do u paint?
Evan (11:12pm): None of your fucking business. Remember that?
Jackson (11:13pm): Clever
Evan (11:14pm): Always. C U Soon
Jackson (11:15pm): Don’t shower
Jackson (11:16pm): Wanna C what u look like w paint all over u
Evan (11:18pm): Fuck off
Jackson (11:19pm): Don’t
Evan (11:20pm): Fine
He didn’t shower, but he did wash his hands and his face, not wanting to look like a serial killer on his short walk to Jackson’s apartment.
“Where are you off to?” Luis called to him from where he, Jamal, and Kane were hanging out in the living room smoking blunts and playing video games.
“Fuck off every night now. Never chill with the boys,” Jamal said with a smirk. “You got a girlfriend?”
“Something like that,” Evan replied, noticing the dubious look he was getting from his little brother.
“Well, tell her to hop off your dick ‘cause we’re having a boys’ night tomorrow night,” Luis informed him. “We’re going to hit up Teasers.”
Evan could think of at least twenty things he’d rather do than go to a strip club, but he knew that if he was going to keep up appearances, he had to fucking go. He hadn’t spent much time with the other guys and the fact that they were already asking questions wasn’t great. It wasn’t an issue that they thought he had a girlfriend, but it would be when they started to wonder why he spent all his time at her place and why she never came around.
It was expected that the girls KKz dated would be down for the gang. They’d hang out and become a part of the scene, doing favors for the guys and bringing around other girls. From what Evan understood, sometimes guys would lend their girls to other members, passing her around like she was a piece of meat to gain respect from the other boys. The thought of it never affected him before, but now, he couldn’t imagine how the fuck they did it. They must not have given a shit about their girlfriends. He and Jackson weren’t like that, committed and shit, but there was no way he’d be offering him up to some other dude. It made him feel pretty fucking sick to think about it.
“Think she’ll let you go?” Jamal teased as he took a hit off his blunt. “You at the ‘got to ask permission’ stage yet?”
Evan tsked and shook his head; the thought that he’d ever ask permission to do shit was laughable to him. He’d never be that guy. He wondered if Jackson would ever expect him to be. If he did, he was in for serious disappointment. It wasn’t that he enjoyed letting people down; it was just that he always did. It was better for people to have low expectations when it came to him, and he knew it. The moment that someone starting demanding shit of him was when he ran. He wasn’t sure if it was selfishness or fear that made him that way, but he didn’t spend too much time considering it. Since it didn’t change the outcome, there didn’t seem to be much point.
“That stage doesn’t exist for Evan,” Kane stated with a slight laugh. “Asshole doesn’t answer to anyone. Never has. Never will.”
“You’re a stubborn motherfucker then, huh, Goodwyn?” Luis questioned as he sipped his forty.
He shrugged. “Guess you could say that.”
“It’s got to be the red hair,” Jamal stated knowingly. “I read this study once that said that redheads are actually more temperamental and stubborn than the rest of the population. They got this devil’s rage inside of them. Real inhuman, no remorse.”
“Bullshit.” Evan laughed at the absurdity, rubbing his forehead as he did. Jamal was funny as fuck, but he said the wildest stuff and often had Evan’s mind spinning from the stupidity. Still, he kept things interesting enough and that could be endearing.
“No joke. I really did,” Jamal promised. “I don’t know if it’s ‘cause they’re born feeling like too gingery and shit, but they take that shit out on other people. Like you…” he paused and gestured toward Evan, eyes wide. “I ain’t ever trying to fuck with you. You got real red hair, none of that auburn shit. You were born with that rage. I can see it. You feel too gingery, don’t you, man?”
“Too gingery?” Kane howled. “You feel too gingery, Evan?”
“You know, there are times I think I do,” Evan replied with a grin. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t give a fuck about anything. It must be when I’m feeling too gingery. My pubes get real hot, like they’re literally on fire, and I want to punch shit and rage out.”
“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about.” Jamal nodded. “There ain’t any reasoning with a redhead that’s feeling too gingery. You just got to get the fuck out of the way. That’s it.” His face was dead serious as he shook his head in disbelief that his theory was all coming together.
“You’re smoking some crazy-ass shit right now. Give me a hit,” Evan said, approaching the bigger man, who cowered as he did.
“Really?” Luis laughed, putting Jamal into a headlock. “You’re a fucking spaz, man.”
Jamal huffed and pushed him away.
“What if a redheaded woman approached you? Real smoke bomb, a’ight? Huge titties, smoking body. Would you fuck her or would you be too nervous that she’d get ‘too gingery’ on you?” Kane questioned a laugh in his voice.
“I’d never fuck a ginger. No way,” Jamal stated emphatically. “She could be a fucking rodeo queen and I wouldn’t let her ride.”
“We got to find him a hot-ass ginger and see if he resists,” Kane said to Luis. “It’ll be our own twist on the study.”
“Don’t sound like a bad idea,” Luis agreed with a grin. “You ever get too gingery and just rage-fuck your girl, Evan? Pound the shit out of her?”
“Likes it when I’m too gingery. Begs for that shit.”
“My man,” Luis exclaimed, shaking Evan’s hand with a big smile. “Go out there and break her pussy.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.” Evan laughed, taking one last hit off Jamal’s blunt before handing it back to the theorist, who took it from him quickly but refused to look into his eyes. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Tomorrow night, man,” Luis reminded him as he left the room. “You better fucking show.”
“I will,” Evan called back, stopping in his bedroom so he could slide his still-wet painting under his bed and slip a few magnums into his back pocket. Whatever the fuck he’d smoked had gone straight to his head and his mind was swirling with a mix of mostly incoherent thoughts. He giggled as he walked down the dark street toward Jackson’s apartment, curious what his impressions were on the ginger theory. Evan also wanted to know Jackson’s middle name and if he liked pancakes or waffles better.
Evan didn’t think it would be a deal breaker unless Jack said he liked French toast, because fuck that shit. Evan kind of considered whether to ask Jack if he thought he was Evan’s boyfriend, but then laughed until his lungs hurt thinking it would make him sound like a fourteen-year-old girl. Still, he wanted to know if he was.
Evan (11:50pm): Hi
Jackson (11:52pm): Where RU?
Evan (11:54pm): Almost there
Jackson (11:55pm): Why RU texting me then?
Evan (11:56pm): Wanted to say hi & ask if I’m ur boyfriend
Jackson (11:58pm): R U 12?
Evan (11:59pm): 14
Evan (12:00am): ??????? hello?
Jackson (12:02am): We can talk when u get here
Evan (12:02am): Do u like french toast?
Jackson (12:03am): no
Evan (12:03am): good