The Sinful Liar - Shohei Ohtani x Reader.

Chapter 24: Little dove

I have the "second date" with Lars today.

The beating of my heart is back again, when I sit on his car while he drives me on the highway to our destination. His fingers are drumming along the steering wheel in a steady rhythm that matches my heartbeat, and for some odd reason, it reminds me of a song I heard on the radio long time ago.  He's still a chatterbox, but this time, it's endearing. He cracks jokes that make me snort mid-laugh, and talks excitedly about his upcoming plan. He even tells his childhood story about sneaking into his neighbor's garden to climb their oak tree and ends with him getting thoroughly scolded and grounded. 

Whatever it is, there's a sense of comfortable ease settling around us.

We get to a art gallery, and I'm overwhelmed with all the people and the paintings and sculptures lining the walls. I excitedly run through the room, looking at various pieces of art by various artists. Lars walks behind me, hands in pockets, looking as if he were taking everything in too. He says nothing, only observing my reactions.

Lars, it turns out, is surprisingly knowledgeable about art history. He points out details I would have missed - the subtle brushstrokes in a Van Gogh self-portrait, the symbolism hidden in a piece of modern art. I, in turn, share my love for watercolors, their delicate washes of color reminding me of lazy summer afternoons spent painting in my childhood backyard. Unlike the loud, bustling energy of Anaheim, here, we can whisper our thoughts about the abstract painting and stealing shy glances at each other between sculptures.

Eventually, we find a painting which captures my attention so much that I forget about all the others in the room. There is a little dove  painted on the canvas, and its white, feathered wings are spread against blue, swirling skies. It looks more alive than anything I've seen in an artist's work so far. Lars notices immediately that I am mesmerized by the painting. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He says quietly. When I startle, I realize that I haven't moved an inch from standing frozen in front of the artwork.

"I mean," Lars continues, smiling at me in a way that tells me how amused he finds this entire situation, "look how life feels through its  movement. The way it flies... like freedom"

Freedom indeed, I think. Freedom from the weight of the world, freedom from responsibility, and not having to worry that someday you'll just cease to exist altogether. No more pain, no more sadness, no more torment because you stuck in the thought of whether your choice is wrong or right. Just happiness. Free will. A life beyond constraints of society and expectations.

"Yes, freedom. Just how I want my life to be"  I say, and turn to smile at him. He smiles right back and I feel something deep inside stir within. The butterflies in my stomach start flapping again and I wonder if he can hear them.

Under Lars' amused gaze, I suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. My cheeks burned as a blush crept up my neck, the intensity surprising even me. "It, uh, just..." I stammered, gesturing vaguely at the painting. "It spoke to me."

Lars' smile softened. "I understand," he said, his voice dropping to a quieter register that sent shivers dancing down my spine. He stepped closer, close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating from his body. His eyes lingered on the painting for a moment, then shifted to meet mine. "I'll call you little dove"

"Why? Because they're slow and so tiny?"  I asked, laughing. He laughed with me.

"Because you bring me its spirit"  he responded, looking directly at me.

I didn't expect him to answer seriously like that. I nodded, speechless under his scrutiny. The playful banter of earlier was a distant memory, replaced by a crackling tension that hung heavy in the air. His gaze swept across my face, lingering on my lips for a beat that made my heart skip a rhythm.