Tessellate

#2

It's been a week since I have a roommate whose name is not Clement. In fact, I haven't seen Clement at all, not around the campus or dorm. Since we are studying in different faculty and building, meeting him becomes the hardest thing to do. Miss him? Probably, I haven't listened to any stories about how fucked up students in Business major are or how he spend the rest of his day or simply I might just miss when he suddenly kiss me while I'm doing my project—it calms me sometimes.

"Is it yours?"

In fact, a freaking tall creature with his prominent green eyes and all his blandness now stays in my room. Well, not completely mine, only half of it. James, his name, is standing there with some of my half-washed brushes. I nod and said that he should put it back in that small bucket of warm water. I'm in the middle of washing it but truly forgot about it.

"I've never seen any of your painting."

I follow him to the balcony, put back my brushes to the bucket and leave me there. My lips are shut tight until I heard the same question again. I took my brushes to wash away excess acrylic around my brush with my own hair shampoo. Brush soap costs pretty much a fortune for me.

"It's because I went to design major?"

"But—"

I look at him. At first I thought it was just some chit-chat to open a conversation but I saw his genuine gesture and expression like he really want to know but in the most subtle way. Yes, I'm about to ignore him but I failed big time. These brushes got dirty not because I paint for novelty's sake, it because of my assignment. Because if I do paint for myself, I won't use acrylic or any heavy paint. If James ever look at my study desk, he might find my watercolor pad around, but I guess he doesn't pay any attention or never touch my stuffs at all.

"It's different. All painting I've made, that's just for sake of assignment. Nothing in it."

"Nothing?"

And sure, it's hard to speak art for those people who are blind about them. I draw a smile not to make it seems easier but to cope with my irritation. It seems to be more helpful instead of a sigh. He looks like a little puppy. Maybe this term is weird, since he got this physical appearance that's pretty much the opposite of 'little' or 'puppy'. I found my brushes all clean then hang it one by one with my DIY hanger made of paper clips before I lean forward to him, almost gasp in amaze to see its details.

"Nothing, no feeling, no purpose, as long I got more than B it's good enough."

He put a face of disagreement with mouth open and—heck! I'm here captivated by his eyes that makes me want to swim around there, if I end up drowning it's fine. It's fine, no, it's not fine and I'm saved by someone knocking the door.

"Let me get that."

The room is big enough for us but James needs to move a bit so I can enter the room, open the door—

"Cleme.." in a split second all I know is the door shutting and my back is pushed against the wall, my lips brutally attacked, followed by familiar smells of mint and cigarette. The way it kiss me like in hurry, like someone who's incredibly thirsty and finally found some water to drink. I almost lost it, almost closed my eyes and enjoy every second of it until I remember there's someone else in this room. "Clement!" I try to push him away from me, but this is Clement we are talking about. He never hesitates to do me with force, like right now, my hands held tight by him who has succeeded in caging me.

"Fuck, Ben, I miss you, I miss fucking you so much."

Everything is in a rush, fast, he won't let you think even once. Because I already feel his hands eagerly trying to unbuckle my belt while murmuring 'give me' all the time. I almost shouted to make him stop, but James voice sounds harsh and deep interrupting us, interrupting him. He abruptly stops, looks at James with his signature condescending look, his mouth open.