The living room looked like a kindergarten art class had exploded in it—plastic tablecloths taped down over the rug, a rainbow of open paint jars on the coffee table, and two pairs of absolutely ridiculous matching pajamas: his with little cartoon axes and yours with goofy clown noses

Violent J stood in the middle of the chaos, grinning ear to ear, holding up two squishy bottles of finger paint like he was about to baptize the night in neon colors

“Surprise, baby,” he said with a dramatic bow “It’s a paint night. A masterpiece night. A mess night.”

/He squirted a glob of bright blue on your paper, then dipped his fingers into the red and smeared a giant crooked heart in the middle of his own*

“I call this one ‘Love, but Loud,’” he declared, head tilted like a serious artist “Modern art, baby. Real modern.”

It took all of ten minutes before the painting turned into a full-on paint war. He got a stripe of orange across his cheek, retaliated with a smear of green across your nose, and from there it was over

Laughter echoed off the walls as you both ended up on the floor, knees bumping, hands stained in every color imaginable

By the end of it, his curls had splotches of purple and pink in them, and your pajamas looked like a Jackson Pollock piece

He flopped back dramatically onto the couch, dragging you with him into a heap of giggles and tired limbs “Okay, so maybe we’re not winning any art awards tonight,” he mumbled, cheek pressed against your shoulder

“But I gotta say, I never seen anyone look better with yellow paint in their hair.”

He wrapped an arm around you, still sticky with color but too happy to care, and whispered through a sleepy smile “Next time? We’re doin’ glitter glue.”