𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐔𝐒 | 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘

ʚ𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕ɞ

Can I kiss you?" Her body stiffens against mine, the sound of her unsteady breaths filling the silence in the air.

"Megumi, I- you're not thinking right now. You're upset and you don't know what you're feeling-"

"I know how I'm feeling Y/n, I know how I feel about you."

"Megumi-"

"I don't want to pressure you so I'll walk away right now if you're uncomfortable." She shakes her head immediately and continues to stare up at me with desperate eyes and a heaving chest.

"Tell me you don't want me to kiss you, and I won't."

"Please." She replies breathless.

"Please what? Use your words Y/n."

"Kiss me Megumi."

And as our lips meet for the first time, I pray to God it is not the last. I'm not sure what people mean when they talk about sparks, because I'm feeling fucking fireworks. The feel of her lips against mine is incomparable, in the sense that I don't ever want to compare it to someone else. I want to kiss her, and her alone until the lack of oxygen becomes too great to bear, and even then, I'd still want to kiss her.

Her hands thread through my hair, pulling at it in a futile attempt to bring our bodies impossibly closer, while mine slowly slide beneath the material on her back, lightly caressing the smooth skin laying there.

I've kissed before, brief moments of touch with someone's whose name was forgotten moments after the interaction. But this moment is one that I won't allow to be forgotten, if in the years to come, as my memory fades and my mobility dwindles, if there's one thing I wish to remember.

It's this moment.

This kiss.

This girl.

Y/n.

Her lips are a dangerous temptation against sobriety, a drug i'd consume in my every waking moment, welcoming the addiction with open arms, desperate for a mere taste. The feel of her hands sliding down my body is a welcome feeling opposed to the innocent touch of a hug. But just as I grow accustomed to their resonating warmth, she moves away, taking both her hands and her lips away from my embrace.

Our faces remain inches apart, the distance between our lips still so close that I can taste her heavy breaths as she tries to regain her composure. The flush of her cheeks and the look in her eyes speak louder than any of our words that go unsaid.

"Fuck it."

And for the second time, her lips capture mine.

__

"Gumi?"

We left my house so Y/n could feed Max and now we've been cuddled on her sofa for 2 hours making conversation as Netflix drones on in the background.

"Yeah?"

"What do you want to do with your life?"

"Where did that come from huh? You getting bored of me?" She chuckles

"Of course not but, don't you ever want to see what else is out there? I've only ever lived here and London but even then I never strayed far from the same streets."

"Honestly, I can't wait to get out of this town." Her eyes widen as she looks up at me surprised.

"Really?" I hum in response, "There's a huge fucking world out there and I want to explore it. Just thinking about being stuck in this shitty town for the rest of my life is horrifying."

"I've always wanted to go to Paris," she admits.

"My mum always spoke of taking me to visit and touring round all the art museums." Her eyes light up as she starts talking of her mother.

"The Louvre, of course, she always told me how my work would end up in a place like that someday, I can only dream." She sighs.

"You paint?" Her body tenses at my question and her eyes squeeze shut.

"Yeah." She whispers, "I do."

I gently take her hand in mine, "Can I see" She hesitates for a while, seemingly having a mental battle with herself over my question.

"Okay." She clasps her hand around mine and pulls me to my feet.

"Follow me."

I do as she says and follow behind her until we reach a door at the top of the stairs. She guides me into the room and my jaw drops at what I see.

The walls are covered in exquisitely painted canvas', each one a unique explosion of not just colour but emotion. They're vivid, yet vague. Each one paints a story of a time unable to be compiled into words, now whether you simply look at the cover or read between the lines will determine if you truly understand each meaning.

Looking at each painting, one word comes to mind to describe all of them.

Masterpiece.

"Y/n these are-"

"Don't." She interrupts.

"What?"

"I don't want to know what you think."

Oh.

"I value your opinion of course. But these paintings are mine, and I won't allow their worth to be degraded or praised, I don't want my view of them to change based on others views of them.

"Y/n? You're fucking amazing you know that." She looks up at me with a small smile.

"I think you're fucking amazing too." She chuckles.

"Why don't you sell them, I know you don't care what other people think but these are seriously incredible." I comment, walking around whilst
observing each piece. Her eyes meet mine, swimming in insecurity,

"You really think so?" I grip her chin softly, lifting her head up to mine.

"I fucking know so, you're so talented N/n."

"I'd love to sell them but the thought of parting with them saddens me you know. I spend so much time putting my everything into them, just for them to get auctioned off to the highest bidder. I don't know. I'd rather showcase them in a gallery or something, but that's something I could only dream of."

"You don't think you could do it?"

"Maybe one day." She shrugs.

"Yeah." I agree.

Maybe one day.

雨