Hmm I doubt there will be a happy ending but we'll see
So in this chapter there's reference to Sharpie markers and felt tip pens which is basically a bit of me in my story. I adore the smell of marker pens (randomly) and I love doodling with felt tip pens, I haven't done that on my wall though (I use paint xD) but I do use them in sketch books etc when I'm peed off
And the sunset was inspired by the gorgeous view of one I had from my window this evening :)

That's all, enjoy!
Not so much angst, just a lot of descriptive stuff
Disclaimer: Not mine cept I do love marker pens :D And no am not a solvent abuser XD
And thankyou for the lovely reviews :) They make me very happy :D

Wallpaper Lists

Wanting him is hard to forget, loving him is hard to regret, losing him is hard to accept, but even with all the hurt I've felt, letting go is the most painful yet.

He lies in bed weeping from one silly sentence; he crosses his arms over his chest and faces his bedroom wall with his back to the rest of his room. After he had controlled his crying from a gushing river to light silent trickles he sits up scrunching his duvet and stares glumly at nothing in particular thinking over the last sentence he heard Howard shout to him, it sickened him to know he was right even though Vince doubted he would get over it 'soon'.

His eyes catch sight of a permanent marker lying on his dresser table, he always had them lying around incase he ever wanted to doodle on something plus he loved the scent they gave off, he picks it up slowly in his hand and stares at it dumbstruck then glances at his bedroom wall, with a light shrug he removes the cap and drops it on his bed then kneels on top of the mattress squashing some pillows. He pauses with the pen against the wallpaper then without thinking he begins to write and doesn't intend to stop until he feels he's finished.

Soon enough he lets the pen dance all over the wall, he tilts it up so it doesn't turn grey, he wants a bold black line in his writing to make it perfect. He draws lines and squiggles which form words on the wall, he bullet points each sentence and occasionally adds a doodle just to amuse and cheer himself up. The smell of the marker drifts around his head, he breathes it in and smiles warmly.

After a while he gets bored of black and searches for a pack of felt tip pens he knows he has in his room, eventually they appear in an old messenger bag he hadn't used in years. The colours were perfect, the pens looked as though they had never been used, he tips the contents onto his bed and sifts through the rainbow choosing an electro blue colour. He adds colour to his list, he draws blue lines next to the black ones then adds dots and scribbles, he adds stars with a yellow pen and uses red and blue to draw random shapes and faces.

Soon he gets bored of the silence and turns on his CD player letting it play whatever was in. As the best of Gary Numan played through the speakers he continued to draw all over his wall, it made him feel better and relaxed him. It was helping in a way and he was thankful for a way to release and vent his anger in a non-violent way.

Every few minutes he leans back with a pen in his mouth and admires his work, his list. Colourful dots of ink litter his hands, fingers and even his arms as though he had just been involved in a vicious pen fight with a friend but he didn't care, the colour cheered him up and turned everything from grey to all the shades of the rainbow. He tosses his brown and grey felt tip pens behind him scowling at them, they were ugly shades for his bedroom wall and he didn't want them being involved.

Finally when he knows he is just about finished he takes several pens in his hand and lines them up in the order of the rainbow then sets them all to the wall and draws in waving motions making the lines dart and flow around the words. When he is happy with his rainbow he caps the pens and drops them on his bed then stands back to admire his work, he reads it silently to himself with the music still playing.

The words were formed in a list with decorative rainbows, stars and random squiggles surrounding it, he glanced at the title first 'How to get over him' he had called it, he had underlined 'him' several times with a red pen then had drawn blue lines around it to make it stand out.

When he finishes reading the list he picks up his black marker and crosses out one of the sentences, the one that reads 'Run away'. As he does he realises it was never really a good way to get over Howard, it would only cause more heartache and the memory of him rejecting him would still be there.

He runs a finger down the list and stops at a certain one, taps it and reaches for a bright purple pen and circles the sentence several times not caring that he crashed into the words above and below, then drops the pen, grabs his coat, boots, keys and wallet and leaves his room and the flat altogether.

Howard had ignored him when he left, he merely stared after him, didn't even ask where he was going. Vince didn't look back at him, didn't address him either, he just darted straight out as quickly as he could, the silence was deadly awkward even though his CD was still playing and the television was on too.

The fresh air hits his face as he shuts the door to the flat, he glances up and down the street, the sun is setting casting a glorious blend of red, orange, blue and even purple across the sky, the sun was a fiery red globe just above some houses but it was a warm red, one that didn't hurt too much to look at for a while and one that didn't reflect anger, if it reflected anything it was relaxation.

Vince decides to walk towards the sun set in a daft hope of reaching it and becoming one with it, he wanted to relax and the drawing had helped him but passing Howard in the flat just made him hurt more. The more he gazed at the sunset the more he longed for an endless Summer, he never did enjoy the cold much.

By the time he reached his destination the sky was bathed in red, blue and purple. It looked beautiful, he wished he had his camera or even his phone to take a photo with but stupidly he'd left his mobile in his room. He takes one last look at the sun set, opens the garden gate in front of him and heads toward the door, knocks and waits for it to be opened.