Breezy sat criss cross on Dallon's bed. She absently trailed fingers through Dallon's hair, since he was sat on the floor and leaning against the bed, with one hand while holding a book in her other.

"So you're seeing him again tonight?" Breezy asked a bit absently, distracted by her book.

"Yep." Dallon nodded, "I think he wants to paint with me."

"Shall he paint you like one of his French girls?" Breezy giggled.

Dallon rolled his eyes, but a small smile grew on his face. "I'm not getting naked on the second date."

"Date! You said date." Breezy snapped her book closed and looked down at Dallon. "Wouldn't this make date number three, though?"

"Meeting." Dallon corrected himself, choosing to avoid looking at her. "It'll be our third meeting..."

Breezy adjusted her position on the bed. She tapped Dallon's head until he turned, seeing her laying on her side and playfully lifting her leg into the air. "Like one of his French giiiirls." She teased, holding her tongue between her teeth.

"Breezy!"

Breezy laughed, rolling onto her back and kicking her feet on the bed. Dallon pressed his face against the side of his mattress to hide his own laughter. It still leaked out, however, and their combined laughter filled the air. It only began to die down when a knocking started at at Dallon's door.

The two let their laughter completely die as the door was pushed open, revealing Dallon's father. Dallon sat up immediately, while Breezy took her time in a more graceful manner.

"Having fun?" Dallon's father asked with the raise of an eyebrow.

Dallon opened his mouth, but all that came out was a dull 'uuuhh'. Breezy leaned over and ruffled his hair. "Adventures in studying, Mr. Weekes." She replied for the both of them. Dallon nodded, feeling thankful for Breezy in that moment.

His father smiled. "Ah, the fun of studying. Are you teaching my boy anything useful?"

"Hopefully." Breezy said with a sly smirk before a giggle overtook her.

"Good, he can use it during his 'time off' from school." Dallon's father nodded, putting up air quotes in description of Dallon's break from classes.

"Plenty of kids do it, dad..." Dallon muttered at a level no one else could hear.

"Shall I have a room prepared for you to spend the night?" Dallon's father asked.

Breezy shook her head as she grabbed her book from the bed, "No thank you, sir! I have late night classes." She lifted her legs, adjusted her position on the bed, and lowered her legs in order to allow them to drape over the edge. "Thank you for the offer, though."

Dallon's father nodded. "I'll leave you to say your goodbyes. Goodnight, my dear. Goodnight son."

"Goodnight, dad..."

"Goodnight, Mr. Weekes." Breezy waved as he stepped out of the room and shut the door. Once the knob clicked, Breezy let out a sigh of air that send strands of her hair into the air. "So... Didn't tell him you're going out tonight?"

Dallon let a small grin find his lips. "So, didn't tell him that the 'late class' is really just code for a night over at Sara's house?"

She shot him a glare, but there was an underlying smile to it. "Touché, sir, touché..."

---

Dallon knocked confidentially on Brendon's door. He had slipped out, with help from the cover of dusk, wearing some jeans and a white shirt under his gray hoodie. Brendon had invited him over again with hopes of a collaborative piece. Dallon loved the sound of the idea, although he had never really delved much into a painter's world.

Brendon pulled open the door after a short moment. His hair was messy, and dark red smears were strewn across his face and neck. His long sleeved, white shirt was stained as well as he blinked away a bit of a dazed expression.

"Dallon!" He smiled in a way that, even covered by the mess, made him look dashing. "I'm so glad you could make it! I've just been working on some other projects, but do come in." He stepped aside and opened the door wider, allowing the taller man entrance.

"Thank you for having me over again." Dallon said, spinning to face Brendon as he closed the gate. "Did you sort out that mess the other day?"

Brendon hummed as he locked the door. "Oh, yes, quite sorted." He turned to Dallon with a suave grin, "Thank you for asking. How has your time been spent during our time apart?"

The image of Dallon's contorted grin flashed through Dallon's mind, but he shook the thought away. "Not much, just small business dealings..."

"Walking in your father's steps?" Brendon inquired, curiously, as he gestured Dallon along to the main building beyond the small grassy area they currently stood in.

"Not exactly..." Dallon mumbled. He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. Though he wasn't trying to follow his father's path, it was growing harder to keep that from the man himself. A wife, a job, a respected life... All what he was expected to do, but was that what he wanted?

"Footsteps are boring to follow anyway." Brendon retorted with a shrug as he opened the studio door, "We know what has been done on that path, but we'll never see what truly can be done on another without branching out there."

Dallon felt himself smile as he looked up at Brendon. The other man was walking into the studio, pushing his sleeves up his arms. Dallon hurried after him, beginning to tug off his hoodie.

"You sound so wise for someone who can't be much older than me." Dallon laughed as he tied his hoodie sleeves around his waist.

Brendon, who was sitting on the ground removing the lids of paint cans, let out a soft chorus laughter. He stabbed roughly into one of the paint cans and looked over at Dallon.

"I'm just a few years past twenty, myself." He shrugged. He pressed down on the tool he used to open the paint cans without looking away from Dallon. "You can't be too much past your second decade."

"Twenty one." Dallon responded as he walked over to where Brendon was. He sat himself down next to the shorter man. "What are we doing tonight?"

"Mixing our forms of art." Brendon replied with a soft smile, "Blending together two styles that may go together, or may not."

Dallon shook his head, "You've never seen me do art." He spoke with slight confusion, "Wouldn't you like to know the details, as you do?"

Brendon chuckled. "I know of your work, Dallon." He said as he slid a paint can to the taller man, "You've shown me enough." The further confusion on Dallon's face made Brendon chuckle again, "Your movement. Your speech. Even your change in wardrobe recently," he gestured to Dallon's casual attire, "you are a vessel for your own art."

Dallon looked at himself. How did all of those components add up into art? What was that supposed to mean?

"Don't drop any of the paint!" Brendon cautioned as he grabbed his own can.

Dallon snapped his head down. He was tilting the can dangerously at the point of spilling. He quickly readjusted himself, feeling a tad self conscious.

"Come over to the canvas." Brendon said as he rose to his feet. He walked over to the large sheet that hung down from the wall, looking it over with plotting eyes.

Dallon followed, keeping a tight grip on his paint can. "So... What now?" He asked.

A excitement spread over Brendon's expression. "The fun part." He whispered before pulling back his arms and yelling, "CHUCK THE PAINT!" As he yelled, he flung the paint from the can at the sheet. The white color flowed out, almost in slow motion, before it splattered against the sheet, spreading and dripping down. His breathing escalated as he grinned and turned to Dallon. "What are you waiting for?"

Dallon was looking at him with wide eyes. That seemed rather unorganized compared to the other works around the studio. It was just such a messy method.

"Dallon." Brendon laughed in a way that made the taller man feel at ease, "Hurry before it dries."

Dallon nodded as he arched his arms back and stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. He flung the paint forward, holding onto the can as the red liquid splattered against the sheet as well.

Dallon grinned at the cascading paint. He and Brendon had almost hit the same mark with their paint. He turned to look at Brendon, but the man had vanished.

Dallon spun around to see Brendon rushing over with a handful of paintbrushes. As he passed by Dallon, he passed him some brushes.

"Come on!" Brendon gestured him on, as he looked over the paint splatter with excitement. "This is the fun part..."

Brendon reached out his arm, holding a fat foamy brush in his hand. His eyes lit up with ideas as the brush pushed into the paint, swirling into the two colors and pushing it along.

Dallon watched, twisting the brushes in his hands, as Brendon so beautifully blended the colors. Hues of pink and white with faded red streaks appeared wherever his brush moved. Dallon was transfixed.

"Don't just stand there..." Brendon spoke up with a distracted tone, "Show me what you've got."

Brendon had already taken up a large portion of their canvas, drawing intricate patterns with the brushes he had brought up with him. Dallon looked down at what had dripped to the floor canvas. He sat down and looked at the brushes Brendon had handed to him. They seemed like average paint brushes, but Dallon felt himself lean towards the fatter of the group. He set the others down and turned to the hanging sheet.

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.