La Seine

Six.

AFTER DANCING AND laughing by the Seine, she began to hurry him through the streets of Paris. She tugged him along, giggling and practically running, and he couldn’t help but feel her excitement. It was contagious.

The sights and smells, the groups of people out and about, the French drifting through the air.. it was like an aphrodisiac.

But nothing was as intoxicating as her.

The way she pranced happily through the cobblestone streets made him laugh, attracting the amused glances of other people walking by. She was so carefree in doing exactly as she pleased at every moment.

She would point at things — graffiti, architecture, whatever caught her eye — and talk about them, telling him obscure facts with a light in her eyes while refusing to tell him where they were going. She was, without a doubt, the most impulsive girl he’d ever met.

She was also the most free. He’d never realized how trapped he’d been.

On the way to their destination — wherever she had decided that may be — they passed an outdoor poetry slam. Immediately, she pulled him over to listen, and she was enraptured with the play of words in a language she couldn’t even understand.

Taehyung supposed he should watch the person reading, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Almost instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She snuggled back against his chest and clapped gleefully when a poem finished.

When it was over, he dropped some money in the collecting pot, and she continued moving him along the street until they reached the underground.

On the train speeding sharply below the streets of Paris, she leaned against him and talked about writing.

“Do you write poems?” he asked, moving closer to speak into her ear and get a whiff of her berry-scented shampoo.

“Sometimes. But not for sharing.”

He threw her a mock pouting face and she laughed. “When you write about Paris,” he began, unable to resist asking, “what will you say about me?”

“You’ll have to wait and find out,” she said enigmatically, raising a flirtatious eyebrow.

The train halted, and they hurried up the stairs and through a few streets until they reached the Eiffel Tower — her goal — and it was lit up beautifully in the dark. They stared at it for a few moments, unable to say much of anything.

“It’s beautiful,” said Taehyung finally.

“It is, isn’t it?” she said rather dreamily.

He turned to her, unsure where his sudden energy and honesty was coming from. But after all, why not? This night felt separate from his regular life. Tomorrow he’d return to his lack of freedom but tonight, he could try risks. “You’re beautiful.”

She blushed, but she was smiling as he reached for her hand. “You flatter me.” She fumbled in her coat pocket with her free hand and pulled out her phone. She took off her glove and started to tap across the surface, opening the camera app.

“Take a picture with me,” she said, thankfully missing the way his mouth was agape as she suddenly leaned too close to him.

Tugging on his arm, she made him bend down, close beside her and spinning so the Tower was behind them, she held out the phone at arm’s length and to his surprise, he felt the air getting knocked out of his chest at the sight of her wonderful smile.

“Smile, handsome,” she ordered, nudging him and then grinning forward at the camera; he copied her and smiled and had to keep his jaw in check when she tapped a button and the frame tapped to take the picture.

A second later, she had pressed a button and lots of pictures showed up; he had a brief glance of pictures full of various scenes and people before she tapped once more and the photo she had just taken filled the screen.

He just stared at it for a long moment, feeling as if he had been slapped in the face. The way she was smiling, close to him, the beautiful tower behind them and the dark of the night making the girl beside him look ethereal.

“Well,” she pressed, and he realized she was waiting on him to comment. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, tearing his gaze from the picture and focusing on her. “Handy,” he said lamely, gesturing toward the device because he felt he should say something.

“What, my phone?” She was looking at him oddly.

“Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and realizing he wasn’t blending well at all right now and that he would have been better off just shutting his mouth. He couldn’t very well tell her that he was awestruck by her smile; it would come off as creepy.

“You don’t have one?” For some reason, she sounded put out.

“Uh, yes. I do! Of course I have a phone.”

Oh god, was he committing some sort of social faux pas? Was there etiquette around these feelings?

He wasn’t sure, but he must have just given her bad news, a strange behavior, because he saw heavy amusement on her face, try as she might to cover it.

And then she laughed a silver laugh, her eyes crinkling, and Taehyung decided that she had the most melodic laugh he ever heard.

“You know, you just shamelessly flirted with me ten minutes ago but now you sound so flustered.”

Standing there awkwardly, Taehyung said the first thing that came to his mind.

“You’re making me feel alive,” he told her, because it was true, and it didn’t matter whether he said it.

Her eyes widened. She stepped closer, searching his face. “Were you not alive before?”

He just looked back at her seriously, his thoughts on his family. “I’m not sure.”

With a soft expression, she reached out to touch his cheek. “That sounds sad.” He just shrugged and looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with the unnatural vulnerability — though strangely, it had been natural with her, here, tonight — and she seemed to deduce this, for she said, “Let’s go find some sparklers.”