A knock on the art room door took me out of my trance, "Who is it?" I called, setting my paintbrushes down beside my easel.
"Isaac," His voice responded, opening the door cautiously, he stepped inside closing it behind him. "We need to talk." At his words, a feeling of unease settled in the depths of my stomach.
Wiping my hands on the front of my already paint-stained pants, I walked over to him and stood beside him, confusion etched on my face. "You're scaring me, did something happen?" I asked, making him shrug sheepishly.
"I haven't been completely honest with you Charlie," He began, making my heart drop, "Remember when I came looking for you and got harassed by your boy-toy?" He asked, making me nod silently in response.
"I came that day to tell you something, something important."
"Spit it out already," I said frustratedly.