Part 8
Paul walked into his flat, throwing his keys on the table. After not sleeping for three days he was too tired to argue when Rich told him to go home and shower and get some sleep before he came back.
But Paul couldn't sleep. He couldn't do anything. He wished he were back at the hospital by Tim's side, where he belonged. But Rich had promised to stay by Tim's side until Paul returned, and Paul knew he'd keep his word.
Paul looked around the flat, and a thought suddenly hit him. He walked into his studio, surveying the scattered mess surrounding him. There were canvases, sculptures, notebooks and sketchbooks lying all over the place. He pulled off his t-shirt and then placed a clean canvas upon the easel. Picking up a brush he immediately began to paint.
After what seemed like hours, Paul stepped back and looked at his finished artwork. Now he knew why he loved painting, because it allowed him to get away from the problems of the world, and it offered him clarity of mind that nothing else could bring.
He glanced over at the clock and saw that it read 6pm. Glancing down at his naked torso he saw that he'd managed to get quite a bit of red and black paint across his arms and body. Walking back into the bedroom he stripped off his jeans and boxers and headed into the bathroom to take a hot shower.
Paul stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. He thought about getting dressed and heading straight back to the hospital, incase Tim had woken up. But as he pulled on a pair of old jeans he realized Rich would have called him immediately if there had been any change. Deciding against putting on a shirt he wandering out into the kitchen to make himself a hot cup of tea. As he put the kettle on there was a knock at the front door.
"Hi Paul."
"Lauren.. what are you doing here?"
"I think we need to talk Paul."
"Yeah we do."
Paul stood aside and Lauren walked past him into the flat. Paul took a deep breath as he closed the front door, wondering what the hell he was going to tell her.
part 9