Try Again

Chapter 6

Night

It's late at night and I decide to go for a good walk. I need it. I need to go somewhere too.

I couldn't forget about the painting.

Or the memories with Xander.

So my feet walk me to the lit up art gallery.

I raise a brow, confused why the art gallery is opened this late. Typically, someone would walk away or call the owner and let them know. I, am not typical so because I am not, I go to open the door.

Flight or fight?

I choose fight.

I step in, careful with my steps and I walk around. The words, "hello," are right at the tip of my tongue until I spot a tall figure in front of the painting. "Night's Dream".

His familiar light brown hair that fall into perfect straight length to the end of his nape. He's wearing just a regular plain shirt with a red and black letterman jacket, and Black cargo pants.

He's just staring at it. It's so peaceful that I don't want to interrupt him.

"I should be mad you're out this late but my god Night am I happy you are here," his voice is like a knife that cut the silence and made me flinch. Of course he knew I was here. My heart is beating a very strange rhythm at what he said.

Am I happy you are here.

His words echo in my head and I am not complaining at all.

He finally turns and he has his normal resting face but it gleams with something. I just can't put a finger to it. It's so different though, like messy different.

"Did you know my hand never grew ever since?" He laughs, looking back at the painting and placing his hand on the red on the canvas. I smile wide like an idiot and get close to him, standing right beside him. I cover the green print. "Yours so tiny still."

I'm glad they didn't grow much. I'm glad that's something he still could make fun of me for. Then I could blush and pretend it's because I'm embarrassed. When in reality, its because he notices my small fingers. I wonder if he imagines how our hands would be interlocked. I know I've imagined it many times now.

"Well they are feminine so whatever," I shrug it off. The feeling. Whatever I'm feeling right now.

"They are, and delicate and petite-

"Enough about hands Xander," I cut him off laughing. God, he could get so descriptive it makes me melt. "Do you think it's fate?"

I don't know why I asked that. And he probably thinks that too because he's staring at me like I'm a little girl who believes in the tooth fairy. I did believe in her before. In fact, so did Dante. Everytime he'd get a tooth broken, he'd put it under his pillow and make sure to add a rose beside it for the fairy. Xander used to laugh at me for believing in such things. Xander will laugh for sure. Xander will-

"No," he deadpans, "there is no such thing as fate or destiny or any of that bullshit."

Just like that, his entire mood changed and it affected the air too because now it's really suffocating. I'm an idiot. I don't know why I said that.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. Then he locks eyes with me. His dark starry sky eyes.

"What are you doing here Night?" He says, almost like a growl, like he's stopping himself from something he'll regret.

"I wanted to see this painting, when no one is around," I admit. I wanted to be alone with the painting. Just me and the canvas exchanging our past.

"Are you upset you found me here?" He asks.