The Checklist || Álvaro Morata

VI

A/N: Alright so when you read this there will come a part near the end where there are flashbacks intertwined with stuff that's happening at the moment. Flashbacks are in italics. You'll notice which part I'm talking about when you get there.

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"I was thinking we could go to La Barceloneta, eat at the Xiringuitos or something-"

"Álvaro."

I tucked my phone between my head and shoulder as I picked up a bottle of developer to read its label, "Mmm?"

"Do you think we can paint my room today?"

Frowning, I put the bottle under my arm, walking around the small store looking for some more film, "Paint your room? I mean, yeah, why not? You got any paint?"

I could hear her laugh sheepishly from the other side, "Yeah, about that..."

"No worries. I'll get some, there's a shop that sells some not far away from here..." I scanned the various types of film on display, taking the 35MM one.

"Where are you?"

"At that photography store I always go to. You know, the one near the Museum of Modernism."

"New project?"

"Something like that. Remember that exhibition I have to put together by June?"

"Of course. You were going to do some impressionist paintings, right?"

"A bit of impressionism with a modern twist, but that's besides the point. Anyway, I scrapped that project, because the oil paints were a pain in the ass, and to be honest, I ran out of things to paint. So I'm putting together a different exhibition instead."

"So strange of you, changing your mind halfway through a project," I could hear the sarcasm in her voice. "What's your new exhibition going to be about then?"

"Good question," I'm pretty sure she could hear my smirk through the phone. "It's top secret."

Laughter filled my ears, "Right. Of course. Just make sure you're 100% committed to this idea, yeah? You're running out of time."

"Don't worry, chiquita, I have it all covered," I made my way over to the checkout counter, almost knocking over a stack of boxes as I struggled to keep my phone in place and not drop all the products I was holding.

"You say that every time."

"It's different this time, trust me," I paid for my things, and as I was helping the clerk bag my things I remembered what she'd wanted to do. "Oh, hey, before I hang up, what colour paint should I get?"

It was my turn to listen to the smirk in her voice.

"Surprise me."

-

As always, I helped myself in through the kitchen, and as I walked upstairs I was met with Nicolas' scowl, who was sitting on the couch in the living room watching TV. It seemed like he hated my guts more and more as the days passed, but there wasn't much I could do about it.

Walking into her room, I put down three cans of paint and placed my messenger bag on the floor next to her desk. She walked in promptly, a stack of old newspapers in her hands.

"Thought we might need these, for the floor, you know?"

Taking the newspapers out of her hands and dropping them on the floor, I pulled her into my arms, pressing my forehead against hers and smiling goofily. "May I know where you got that hoodie from?"