𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 ౨ৎ

ᴀɴᴅᴅᴅ.. ꜱᴡɪᴛᴄʜ!- ʙᴀᴄʜɪʀᴀ ᴍᴇɢᴜʀᴜ

now playing..
les- by childish gambino

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:41

♪ I hope nobody catch us.. but I kinda hope they catch us, anyway ♪

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

summary: in which, you and your university boyfriend - bachira meguru - sneak into an
art room late at night to partake
in a couples trend!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Noisy giggles crashed into the muted, imperturbable atmosphere of the moon-lit hallway, both you and Bachira sneaking around ninja-style since it was past dorm curfew. The pair of you acted like bandits, never staying out in the open for too long before camouflaging adjacent to lockers or in the crook of a classroom's archway.

It was currently 12am, and even though most hall monitors had retreated back to the solitude of their separate housing area - you were both cautious of the few who lurked out of arrant ennui.

Your boyfriend was the star student in the art program he attended; his professor had taken a profound liking to him, and granted him possession of the spare key. You had finally stumbled into the art corridor after many hushed laughs and accidental bumping into suspiciously placed bins.

Bachira slid the disfigured metal into the chamber of the doors' locking mechanism, rotating the rusty key until a hush 'click' resounded. Pumping your fists simultaneously in victory, you both burst into a fit of laughter, pushing each other through the chestnut doorway with devious smiles and mischievous intent.

You flicked on the light-switch, the illuminating effulgence seeping into the dusk-filled room - the light a harsh juxtaposition to the previous sombreness. Each side of the colour spectrum challenged each other for power, a belligerent feud of dominance until they both settled for a compromise, and a warm amber was projected onto the area.

As you locked the door, the honey-coloured boy made a bee-line for the craft supplies, pulling out colour pallets, a plethora of pain brushes, and a vast, expansive range of diverse pigments. The easels and stools were still splayed out across the room from previous classes that took place during the day, and you made a direct course to the one perched near a window.

Bachira stumbled over, juggling all the supplies as he hooked his foot under a stool and placed it next to an easel opposite yours - facing each other. Setting down the supplies, you both began to allocate the vibrant colours into the respective paint slots. "You got your phone, baby?", you implored, gaze still fastened onto the pallet, filling each dip in the plastic with its labelled pigment.