( this gif has nothing to do with this chapter... 679 by Fetty Wap [violin cover] )

NINETEEN: when you just can't help yourself.

His ass.

It was so fucking perfect.

I have to be gay.

I just had to. I didn't go through all of this for nothing. I didn't walk through Hell and get hit by my religious mother for nothing and I didn't get beat up just to find out that being attracted to guys was just an experiment or I was attracted to both genders.

I had to be gay.

"Holy shit," Paul had stated when he'd turned around, smiling wide when he'd seen me -very suspiciously might I add- as I stood in his doorway. And as he looked me over, his smile deflated a little, eyebrows furrowing as his calculating brown eyes took in my appearance, "you look really nice..."

I was nervous... Hell yes, I was nervous and my over-active subconscious was telling me that Paul was realizing that he didn't actually want to date me. I think if those words had actually left his mouth, I would've been in so much pain, jumping in front of an 18-wheeler would've been less painful.

My heart was beating so loud, I was sure the curly haired, angel-boy... erm man- could hear it, "You say that like its a bad thing."

Paul let out a small, almost silent, chuckle at that, turning around to dig back in his drawers, bending over slightly and giving me the perfect view to admire the roundness of his perky little ass. And if you were to ask me what I was thinking about that had me so tight in my jeans, I wouldn't be able to answer, my cheeks would be flushed and I'd be trying to hold onto what little dignity I had left. Why the fuck was I so horny that day? Maybe it was nerves that caused my body to rise in certain places...

Paul turned around, my hand drifting to my crotch to cover my... problem.

I prayed to whatever God that may or may not exist that Paul didn't notice how hard he'd made me by just bending over.

"I uh, I don't want you to mess up what you're wearing," Paul had muttered, cheeks not red like expected by his demure tone. Biting his tongue in that cute way of his, he tossed me a black tee and some black jeans, "can you change into that?"

I would go naked if you asked me to.

Shaking my head to rid my thoughts that consisted of me, Paul, and a lot less clothing, I sighed scanning the clothes in my hands. Looking at the sizing on the pants, my eyes widened even though I expected nothing less. Paul was lanky, I mean I wasn't big myself but I just hadn't realized how skinny he actually was.

"Paul, these pants are kinda small."

"Right... " he trailed off, looking down at my legs as if he'd realized something. His perfect lips were parted and pursed as he nodded, turning back around to sift through his drawers and while I was imagining how it'd feel with his lips on me, he'd successfully found what he was looking for.

Turning around, his shirt slid a little downwards, it too big for his frame and I could see a peak of his collarbone, a little arrow tattoo sitting pretty just below it. I'd never noticed it before, I'd realized, my eyes catching sight of the dark-purple hickey beside it. Maybe I was a little too focused on marking Paul's skin with temporary bruises that I hadn't noticed the permanent ink.

I watched as his long, lean fingers came up to slide his shirt back into it's original position. A flash of those fingers wrapping around me and the vision of his nails digging into the skin of my thighs as he took all he could had caused my cheeks to go red. I had to hold back a groan, my dick getting painfully hard and all I wanted was relief... Or maybe him on his knees if he were into that.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

And he still wasn't looking at me, he was checking the sizes on the clothes he'd tugged out and I watched him worry away at his bottom lip. Brown eyes flicked up and as soon as we locked stares again, Paul was smiling.

And I wanted him so bad, it took me by surprise but all I could think of was him now and I sincerely hadn't jerked off in so long, I hadn't had the desire to. Sleeping next to him every night did absolutely nothing but repress me and I was sure this was just a pre-warning before I exploded.

Our relationship status had never been more confusing and I was sure I couldn't ask him to fuck me again but God, I really wanted him.

I really, really, really wanted him.

His lips were moving before I knew it and he was talking, I barely caught onto the end, "-maybe I need to go with you."

"What?"

"To the gym." He was flicking his tongue out to wet his bottom lip  and I wasn't sure if the tension was only circulating me. "You look great, like, really good."

Fuck, he's so hot.

I was trying not to blush, wanting to respond back with something that wasn't so awkward because truthfully, compliments always made me flustered. And compliments from Paul, although an ego boost, had me wondering how he even gave me the time of day.

When he was almost perfect.

"Here," and he tossed me some grey joggers in a size large. I smiled slightly at the way his eyes averted from me as I looked down at the pants, holding them close to the situation in between my legs, "sorry, I forgot that you actually play sports and your calves are built like brick walls."

I'd almost forgotten about my boner at that point and now it was coming back with a vengeance, "Uh, thanks," I'd muttered, biting my lips so hard, they almost stung. I'd managed to nod at Paul and escape to his bathroom.

It would be an understatement to say that I felt shameful for contemplating jacking off in his bathroom before changing.

: : :

"Wow," had escape from Paul's lips, patient grin on his face when I'd entered his room again after changing. I stared down at my shuffling feet, nervously, trying to figure out what exactly he'd meant by that.

I couldn't help but think that his shirt was a little tighter than my normal t-shirts and was hugging my chest way too much. The pants kind of fit perfectly -which was surprising- but maybe Paul wouldn't appreciate me stretching his clothes.

"Does it look bad?" I'd voiced my thoughts, eyes trying to dissect what was wrong and why Paul was making that face at me. I crossed my arms, becoming really self-conscious of myself. I couldn't stop remembering that time Calum told me that my calves were too built for my skinny legs and I had the arms of a thirteen year old girl.

Of course, we were joking but with Paul staring me down, I tried to distract myself with how incredibly unbalanced my body was. With arms that were only barely-defined, legs that were a little too built, a long, skinny frame, and freckles scattered all over my body, I felt like nothing beside Paul.

He was perfect.

I felt his eyes on me and out of the corner of my eye, I could see him bashful let looking down, "No, it's just," looking up as seeking validation, I saw the small smile that crossed his face as he lent over to the his shoe, "You look really good in my clothes."

And I tried to smile at that, hoping it were true and I didn't look as stupid as I felt. Slipping into the roshes he'd tossed to me, I admired how he could completely ruin a shoe yet still have it look as artsy as his personality. They were black with some pain splatters that looked completely accidental but still beautiful nonetheless.

Standing with a sigh, Paul grabbed his keys and wallet as well as his phone, shoving the latter in his pocket as I followed him to the living room to say bye to the group that was resting on the couch. Smiling at the twins, I tried to avert my gaze from Rilee, feeling guilty about what had happened around an hour before.

Just as I was forgetting that I completely betrayed Paul, it was thrust back into my face when I wished it would just go away.

"I wanna do this right. We're gonna go on a date, you're gonna decide if you like it and we're gonna get all nervous before we kiss, okay?" Paul had muttered after a brief silence as we'd made it outside from their apartment building.

It was a nice day out and his brown eyes looked almost hazel in the light, his hair appearing ever curlier and his smile brighter as he reached for my hand. There was this pounding in my chest that was only slightly subdued and I really wanted to hold his hand.

But we were in public and I chickened out, moving my hand a little closer to my body as we made it to the parking garage around the corner.

"I didn't know you held the manual to same-sex dating," I'd said, trying to keep the mood light when is just so clearly rejected his advances. I felt like an ass, being on a date with this guy and not even letting him hold my hand.

He looked sad for a second before he smiled a little in understanding because that was the thing about Paul- he was way too nice and understanding for his own good. Opting to walk beside me at a close enough distance that he could lace his pinky around mine and hide it from sight, Paul was really an angel. "Excuse me for being corrupted by cutesy couples. Landon sings a lot of Taylor Swift."

I couldn't help but laugh at that.

He chuckled a little alongside me as we turned the corner and he pulled out a pass, showing it to a man before he could step foot into the garage.

That must've been new because he only ever parked on the street and when he muttered out something about not being able to afford another ticket, that was when I burst into laughter.

As my laughing simmered down and we made it up an elevator to a higher ground, I felt Paul's eyes on me as he intertwined our hands placing a small kiss on my cheek, "I like your laugh."

No one was around so feeling brave, I leant a little closer, pecking his lips softly, "I like your hair."

I felt his smile as he buried his head onto my shoulder. Of course, I didn't mind, "I like your freckles."

"Ew no," I let out, hand playing with a stray curl on his head and laughing slightly when he pulled away to look at me with a bewildered expression.

"What?" He'd asked as if I were crazy, me simply shrugging as I watched the numbers getting closer and closer to the floor we were supposed to be on.

I didn't want to let go of Paul when the number reached one but my stupid brain wouldn't shut up.

"I hate them," I muttered when the doors had started opening, Paul letting go as if he weren't supposed to touch his date.

"They're adorable."

: : :

After driving for an hour, we'd walked for around ten minutes until we'd reached a warehouse-like building. My eyebrows were furrowed "No way..."

"Do you not like it?"

"Are you serious Paul?" I'd asked before looking over and seeing the worry on his face and softening my tone, "This is fricking awesome."

He smiled, "Will told me about this place and since I like art and you like throwing stuff, I thought we could mix it."

"Correction: I like kicking stuff." I said as we made it to a line.

"Same thing, they're both athletic."

Rolling my eyes, I couldn't stop smiling, "How much is it?"

Looking up on the board of prices when we'd gotten to the front of the line, Paul pulled out his wallet, "Ten bucks an hour but I've got it."

"Paul we just used a shit-ton of gas and you paid for that. I can pay," I tried to coax him my hand digging around in my pocket and hoping that I brought enough. I was using the last of my money from the summer job that I'd quit at McDonalds and although it wasn't much, I still had around fifty bucks.

Pulling out my wallet, I tried to pay when we'd got to the pretty blonde cashier. Mentally, I was trying to figure out if I was attracted to her but with Paul by my side and my stomach being filled with teenage-girl butterflies, it was impossible.

"Nope," pushing my hand away, Paul handed the girl his card, promising that we'd be out in an hour and a half, "I asked you out so I pay."

I didn't even care that he announced we were on a date.

"I'm paying next time," I found myself promising, lips pulled into a frown as I saw the girl swipe his credit card.

"There's gonna be a next time?"

Don't think I didn't hear the hope embedded in those words, "Maybe," I shrugged as he reached for his receipt and I could see the faint blush creeping up his neck at what the girl had said next.

"You guys are really cute."

Face hot as ever, I mumbled out a thank you as Paul smiled at her before nudging my hand to where it wasn't noticeable and leading me to a wall littered with water balloons. We stayed behind the safe line, people throwing darts and color erupting from the balloons making Paul stare.

I only had to look at him for a second before I realized the way his hand fidgeted as he glanced at a bucket of darts.

In hindsight, they probably shouldn't have put them in a bucket...

"Are those safe?" I'd asked Paul when we'd passed before he chuckled, digging one out and showing it to me.

Each dart had a tiny little cap on it.

Feeling stupid, I took the dart from his hand, aiming and unfortunately missing. The old song they were playing was getting easier to understand when Paul started singing the lyrics, knowing he couldn't sing, "Anywhere the wind blooows doesn't really maaaatter."

I grinned, unscrewing the cap off of another one, aiming again and missing. I'd never really been good at throwing, the reason why I took up soccer instead of football. Humming along, I recited the next verse as Paul took a few darts out, "Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low."

"Why are they playing this?" He'd asked, laughingly as he threw a dart, it hitting a balloon perfectly, blue paint dripping out of the hole and mixing with the red underneath, creating a swirl.

"Because they have good music taste?"

Laughing at me when I gave him a frustrated scowl, Paul launched another dart. This time it hit a yellow balloon, "Queen is hardly considered good."

"Then how come you know the lyrics?" I mocked, pushing him slightly to thrown him off when he'd thrown another but no luck.

"Well, I mean, it's a classic and Landon made it his mission to learn this. It was inevitable that I'd know it word for word."

I scoffed. "Excuses, excuses."

"You're doing it wrong," Paul chuckled, watching as I failed to hit any of the four balloons I had aimed for so far. My patience was wearing thin and I was two seconds away from accidentally smacking Paul.

"I know, I'm not really good at throwing things... That's why I play soccer," I groaned, shivers running up my spine when he took the dart from my hand, his fingertips brushing mine.

"So I guess you could say you literally suck."

Glaring, I pursed my lips, giving Paul the unamused look he deserved, "I hate you."

"You love me," he mocked, motioning towards himself, "Now come over here and let me do that romantic, 'guiding your hand while standing really close to your back' thing."

The hesitation wasn't necessary when I looked around, seeing no eyes on us as he drew me towards him.

"Okay."

"What's your favorite color?" He'd asked when I stood in front of him. I could feel his hand pressing onto my shoulder, other one wrapping around mine,  dart already in it. Paul lined up the shot and I found myself laughing.

"Oh we're doing this?"

He chuckled a bit and I wasn't sure what was more rom-com-y the teaching me how to play or asking my favorite color on a date. "Yeah, we're doing it."

"Um... blue."

"Blue." He repeated watching a dart miss the target by only a few inches. I'd been missing worse than that. Paul paused for a second, backing up a little and I reared my head around for a second, looking into a goofy face. "I was hoping you'd be a loser and say brown."

I laughed, meeting dark eyes with a charming, teasing glint. "Whats yours?"

"Green." He smirked and I found myself staring at his lips again, I was so hyperaware of him tugging his bottom lip, bumping his shoulder into mine slightly.

"Shut up." A laugh fought its way through then and he was grinning. I rolled my eyes falling back into him a bit. "You're good at this."

"It's about relaxing really."

That weirdly put me on edge. "You do this a lot?"

"Come here?"

Be cute and cliche to everyone you take on a date. "On dates."

"Not really, no."

I felt Paul's  firm chest pressed against my back as he positioned me in front of him by my hips. And I was barely able to register when he'd placed the dart in my hand because the feeling of his skin on mine and his lips gliding across me had my skin in goosebumps. Resting his chin on my shoulder, he laced his fingers through my non-occupied ones and wrapped his tattooed hand around my other.

But even as Paul held me, I was aware of the people around.

"Are you getting hungry?" I'd asked, reluctantly pulling away right before the dart left my fingertips. Clutching it in my hand, I made sure I didn't cut Paul or myself as I turned around to face him and put distance between us.

"Yeah, I guess." He still had a cute smile on his face. "You wanna get something?" It seemed like he expected it and I remembered we were on a date and he probably planned all of this, he seemed sweet like that. "Theres this really cool Italian place around the corner."

"Sure."

Paul sighed, it soft. He kept that same accepting smile he had before and he pushed his shoulder into mine again. "No one's staring at us." He motioned around.

Turning to where he was looking, I felt more silently mortified when I'd seen a short and tiny blond holding hands with who is presume to be his boyfriend. Everyone else was busy, other artsy people covered in paint and throwing darts, others across the huge room painting against canvas paper.

My eyes caught the blond with his bottom lip sucked into his mouth as the other guy stared down at him, height being almost a whole head over him. He was wearing a shirt with power bottom sprawled across.

And I watched as the 'powerbottom' blond threw a dart, it hitting a balloon and leaning up to place a giggly kiss on the other's lips.

Seeing no one even spare a glance at them, no one really paying attention to anyone but themselves.. I'd realized how stupid I was being before giving Paul a sheepish smile, picking at a loose thread hanging off my -his- shirt. "Sorry, I'm just," looking at the couple again, I sighed, "I'm not used to people being open about this kind of stuff..."

He nodded, still visibly unhappy. Looking at me with those pretty dark-brown eyes of his, he sighed again, holding out his hand, "Can you please hold my hand? Just so I know you're not trying to escape back into the closet."

And so I intertwined our fingers, my heart pounding and not just from fear.

"I'm so gay." And Paul laughed.

: : :

"Aren't you on that YouTube channel with the really hot twins? LightofDay, I think?" I'd heard as Paul and I sat across from each other down the street. We'd gotten hungry after about two hours and forty bucks that I'd glared at Paul about when he paid. Agreeing on me paying for the food, we sat and ordered two pizzas, asking questions across the table, just anything to get the conversation up and running.

Paul released his straw from his mouth after taking a sip of his water, sitting up straight and he was playing with my hand under the table. This was weird, the attention, he had been bumping his foot into mine under the table as we made small talk.

He had this funny way of tickling my palm when he went to answer the question. Soft smile on his face.

"Yeah..." Paul spoke, stroking my thumb with his as he looked up at a tall silver-haired boy. The guy had a wide smile on his face, his nose ring gleaming as he looked down at us with a look of excitement.

He was wearing a floral print short sleeve and some distressed jean-shorts, something completely matching his bright attitude and felt familiar, paint all over his arms. "I'm such a big fan! My boyfriend loves the short films."

"Are you- wait are you on a date right now?" He suddenly looked sheepish, the way he spoke was so animated, so happy even if he gave an embarrassed face. "Sorry."

"It's cool." Paul spoke, biting his lip for a second and he seemed to be trying to decide on what to answer.

"Um," I tried reading Paul's expression as he stared at me, waiting for my answer and when I felt silent, he shrugged, "not really."

"Oh..." The guy must've noticed the tenseness in the air because he diverted Paul's attention with his peppy attitude- something I was thankful for. "Well, I'm Reese. And that guy over there," he'd pointed, my eyes followin his finger to the strawberry blond I'd seen earlier in a powerbottom shirt, "he's my boyfriend, Matt."

Paul smiled at the way Reese's eyes lit up, "you love him?" Paul guessed, the same thing I'd been thinking. This guy was so in love, it was seen in just the way he looked at 'Matt'.

Reese nodded, biting his lip, "A lot actually."

"That's nice," the boy across from me had smiled as his boyfriend walked over to us, carrying two cups.

When the blond got close enough, he took a sip from one of the cups in his hand, "Hey, babe, did you find a place to-"

"Are you gay?" Reese had asked, tilting his head to the side at Paul. I was unsure of whether or not he'd seen the short male beside him.

Paul gulped, "I..."

"I'm so sorry..." The strawberry blond had murmured as he got closer, passing a drink to his boyfriend before slapping his arm, "Holy shit, you're from LightofDay."

Paul went to speak but was cut off with  different conversation, I bit my lip, he was nudging my ankle.

"Reese, you don't just ask people if they're gay, asshole-"

Reese raised an eyebrow, "My asshole is strictly off limits since you decided to wear that shirt."

"I'm a proud powerbottom."

Paul was looking at me now, his lips quirked up and he was fighting a laugh. I tried not to laugh then as well, closing my eyes for a moment.

Turning to his boyfriend, I'd come to the conclusion that they were forgetting we were there. That was proven when Reese's face contorted into one of disgust, "I don't get why you bottom though, it's so fucking weird."

Matt shrugged, looking up at his incredibly tall boyfriend, thinking a little himself, "Bottoms are usually lazy as fuck and if I can just lay there and receive, I'm more than happy."

And then his eyes went wide in horror when Reese giggled and Paul cleared his throat, "Oh my god, I didn't just say that..." Grabbing his boyfriend's hand, he attempted to make a run for it, "We'll just-"

"Can I get a picture?" Reese had interrupted Matt once again and I was starting to think it was a normal thing.

Paul blinked, "Sure."

"Please, Matty?" The giant asked with a pout as he looked over at the boy who was turning as pink as his hair.

And then he rolled his eyes, resigning, "You're so lucky it's your birthday."

"You're lucky I don't bend you over right now."

And Matt blushed.

: : :

"Your fans are..." I'd trailed off, not knowing what to say or how to finish when Reese and Matt had left. I'd come to terms with the fact that my cheeks were permanently red by the time they made it to their own table. Paul nodded with a chuckle as his own eyes drifted over to the table the couple was at across the room.

"You don't even have to say it."

Taking a sip of my soda, I tilted my head at Paul, admiring his laugh as his tattooed fingers curled around his cup of water, "How does it feel? You know, getting recognized like that?"

He looked deep in thought, taking a bite of the spinach and cheese pizza we'd ordered, "it's pretty cool. I mean, no one really pays attention to the art guy when there's musicians around," he shrugged, "but, you know, I love what I do and I love meeting new people."

"How long have you guys known each other?"

Paul smiled and he squinted for a second as if trying to remember. "Since eighth grade maybe." I could tell how close they were. "Why?"

It was weird thinking of doing Youtube consistently. Like the arts alone weren't anything I'd ever been good at. It always interested me but it never really appealed to me.

It seemed really interesting though, the fact that people knew them cause they watched random videos they made. Soccer was cool but it never really put me at the forefront of anything. Michigan was a big football state and my best friend was the quarterback.

I didn't even really stand out. "I don't know, I don't really think I'd have the guts to start a YouTube channel alone."

"I can see how it's scary."

Biting my cheek, I nodded, "But it's really cool." It was. "Like being so cool with it."

Paul laughed then, it spreading into a cute smile. His brown eyes scrunched at the corners and I was starting to like the way he smiled, I wanted to see it again.

"The guys already had the channel so it was easy to fall into." He shrugged, "it just seemed like fun."

Paul was cute like that, so interested in what he was doing, yet nonchalant about it. He was- he was passionate about something and it was nice. I'd never been so interested in what another person had to say, I wanted to listen to whatever he wanted to talk about.

"Did you always wanna be an artist?"

I thought about what I was passionate about. Sure, I liked soccer but I'd never been really in love with doing anything practical. My dad was a lawyer and he made comfortable money but he went to Yale from a small town Michigan high school he met my mom at.

He wanted to be a lawyer and worked public defender jobs until he became a lawyer, my mom was a pastor at a local church. I wondered what I would have ended up being if I didn't fuck everything up.

Paul was so sure of himself, that was what making art just to make art said to me.

I wasn't sure exactly what that meant to me. "I've been drawing since I was little. Selling art to family members and PTA moms."

"An entrepreneur."

"Philanthropy, really."

And I hadn't seen much of his work. "You have to show me a painting sometime."

Paul blushed for the second time, blinking and he was smiling amusedly. "You've seen my work." I could tell he was referring to the time I'd snooped on his art before and I found myself biting my lip, taking a sip from my drink, tea since Paul insisted that it was the best drink there.

I laughed, it did seem good, homemade. It was a family owned arcade

"Not those," the ones that he had scattered around his apartment. Any artist had to have some art just for them. I'd seen all the stuff he had hanging up and the art he'd made on youtube but he probably had a stash, "your actual paintings. The real ones."

Swallowing and wiping his mouth, he turned the question around, "What about you? How's soccer?"

I shrugged, "It's cool, I guess." I didn't know what I liked enough to commit to for my entire life. Once you decided that, you were kinda stuck.

Paul tilted his head then, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I love it, but I don't love it enough to go pro." It was something I'd been working to my whole life kinda. When my parents came to youth games and I had to pick a sport in middle school... Soccer had always just been me. It did seem cool to do that for my life. "I don't know what I want to do."

I'd finally let out what I'd been pushing back for weeks and it sounded even more pathetic out loud.

"No one really knows."

Deadpanning, I stifled a laugh. "You made baby art."

Paul shook his head then, shrugging. "Yeah but I was gonna be a teacher." He was sitting back now, arm flexing as he reached for another slice. "I didn't decide on art until I was already in it."

I was waiting for him to laugh but he didn't even smile, nodding and licking his lips, "You do what makes you happy."

Rolling my eyes, I thought of ways to avoid this conversation. This was a date, not a meeting with my guidance counselor, "I can't exactly live off happiness."

"No but, I don't know, I'd rather be happy and poor than unhappy and rich, ya know?" Backtracking, Paul tried to explain himself even when he didn't need to, "Not that you'll be poor, I mean."

"I mean art hasn't always been good for me... I lived on the guys' couch on and off for close to three years."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He was nodding, as if it was crazy that I didn't think he'd been through something like that. Maybe I should've expected an artist to have a bit of struggle. "Before we started making any money. Their parents let me live in their basement for a while."

"Why?"

"Family stuff." He shrugged. "You know."

"Yeah."

And Paul had this super cute smile. It was a half smile, peaking up at the corners. I was so attracted to his optimism about it all. "Yeah so... I guess I don't value material objects much anymore."

"Yeah," I'd lost my appetite thinking about my hazy future, "can we go paint?"

"You want to paint?" He asked with a smile, thankfully taking the bait and I grinned at his excitement, my mood lifting.

"Of course," if you smile at me and do what makes you happy.

A/N:

FOUR THOUSAND WORDSSSS Why the fuck is this so long?

IDK BUT BRO... TROYE'S EP WAS RELEASE TODAY AND MY MOMMY WONT GIVE ME FIVE BUCKS TO BUY IT.

I'm gonna cry...

Updated: Sun, September 13th.