Outsider Syndrome: Everlasting (Bonus Content)

Bonus - "Favourite Piece of Art"

Shiina Kisaragi's POV:

"Even I could paint that," I stated, pulling a face at the art piece hanging on the wall. The city's art gallery was jam-packed with extraordinary pieces of art, brilliance I couldn't frankly wrap my head around. Then, there were mediocre pieces like the one in front of me. Multiple splatters of paint, in no remarkable fashion. In the guise of being abstract, rich people could get away with anything and were paid handsomely to have their artwork on display. On the other hand, unknown artists with boundless talent never received recognition. "I've always thought your portraits belonged in museums," I said to Banri, on my left.

"M—mine?" In a burst of eureka, he nodded, beaming. "I agree! If anyone's face should grace these walls, if the rest of the world may worship the magnificence of any piece of art, it should be one of you!"

Yep. He totally got the wrong idea.

I reached up and cupped his face in my palms. Puzzled, his gaze flitted to my lips. I stressed my letters, leaving no room for doubt. "I'm complimenting you, Banri, not fishing for flattery. All you paint are portraits of me, but even then, they're unbelievably breathtaking. You're amazing—gifted at so much—and I wanted to tell you that."

At a loss, Banri's eyes widened to the size of plates. The heat seeping from his cheeks warmed my hands. Colour followed shortly afterward. "O-oh." In that cute manner of his, as was the case whenever I offered him praise, he fell speechless, and looked elsewhere. "Th-thank you, Kisa."

My heart melted into a puddle. Whenever he shouted from the hilltops about me, regardless of onlookers or an extra pair of ears, he did so without blinking. He was sappy to a sickly degree, and even that didn't fluster him. Only when others flattered him with praise did he get shy. Giving out compliments like second nature, yet being unable to receive one regarding himself. How endearing was that?

Seconds later, I kissed him, draping my arms around his shoulders and forcing his undivided attention to me. When I withdrew, an up-close view of Banri's flushed complexion offset my racing pulse all over again. If hearts could take place of his eyes, I'm sure that'd explain his dopey, breathless stare. To him, nothing in the world mattered but me, that was clear. Of course, it was the same for me. I grinned. "Earth to Banri?"

"Er, give me a second. I'm about to die from cuteness."

"Then, I'll revive you."

I smothered his cheeks in kisses for emphasis. We laughed.

It'd grown a lot easier to be affectionate. Naturally, Banri continued to pamper me, hoisting me up as his untouchable goddess, but at least now, I could get away with far more conventional gestures.

Since it was the weekend, it was considerably packed here at the art gallery. I passingly expressed I hadn't been to one for years—the last time being on a field trip in elementary school—and Banri showed up at my doorstep this morning, prepared to escort me. He'd forever be full of surprises.

Untangling ourselves from one another and saving those around us further cheesiness, we proceeded to peruse the vast room.

"This is so pretty," I said, marvelling at a sculpture of a historical queen.

"You are," Banri said.

"I'm talking about the sculpture."

"I'm not."

Cheeks blazing, I shooed him off.

"Oh. This might be my favourite."

"What a coincidence. You're also my favourite piece of art."

"Banri, quit it," I hissed, skin unquestionably flushed.

We were drawing startled looks from passing civilians, not that Banri minded. He meant every word.

It was almost as if we came here just so he could fawn over me. Be in the presence of some of the greatest pieces around the world, and still audaciously state that they hold no candle to my beauty. I mean, it wasn't as if I wasn't enjoying the treatment—I was. Though, that didn't erase my embarrassment.

The final painting we stumbled across took up half of the wall. It was humongous. A woman in a white dress. A man in a tuxedo. Fluttering flower petals. Enthusiastic spectators.

"A wedding ceremony," I realized. Among all of the other artwork, it stood out for sure. Those within the painting were happy as could be. The amount of detail the artist put into every aspect gave it life—as if they were popping right off the canvas. "That reminds me, didn't the BB get an odd request recently? To design a wedding dress."

"Not for commercial use, but yeah," Banri replied. "It'll be another thing to add to my portfolio, but down the line, maybe something will come from it."

For the last few weeks, he'd been staying up late working on it. I hadn't quite seen his progress, but knowing his talent, it was sure to be stunning. "That's so cute," I said, knocking my head back to admire the canvas once more. "Whoever wears it will be so lucky."

Frozen stiff, he whipped his head between the portrait and me.

"I'll make one for you!"

I stopped dead, paralyzed in my tracks.

"For yours—our. . . What I'm trying to say is—" Although I was used his impulsiveness, nothing could prepare me for what he shouted next. "Marry me, Kisa!"

"Ma—marry—"

"When we're older, and I make a proper name for myself," he hastily added. "Obviously I'd have to appropriately propose down the line. And it's a faraway promise. But, that's how badly I want you to stay by my side. No one else will ever hold my heart the way you do. No one. I'll spoil you more and more. And love you." He reddened to a beet-red shade. "Being in the same room as you is enough to provide me a lifetime of joy, so me selfishly asking for more— I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? I'm such an impudent servant. Do yourself a favour and forget I exist!"

The corners of my eyes burned. He had no self-awareness. Had questionable timing. Said whatever popped into his head at a moment's notice. He barged into my life with equal randomness—begging me to become his model—which left me floundering for coherent words. Even now. We were casually discussing wedding dresses, so how had he suddenly spun the conversation into marrying me?

I aspired for his level of boldness.

"One day," I laughed, my love for him bubbling up from the depths of my soul. "And I'll wear one of your dresses."

THE END