SOTUS : MY MUSE

MEMORY Part 4

Kongpob spent five days fighting his fever, barely able to move, completely unable to keep anything down, and he relished it. The good things is the training program that was handle by him is progressing smoothly, it's always a good thing to have a reliable retired CEO as your dad. Maybe he will focus on selling the house as his priorities. On the sixth day he had enough. His legs trembled and his insides still threatened to turn him inside out with every step he took, but he didn't care. It was time to get started. Kongpob decided to answer all his call, replying all his texts or message so that he can finish his obligations toward his family as soon as possible.

Painting was supposed to be his hobby to ease his mind. Without his muse he planned to portrait a dramatic landscape view from a hilltop just east of the county where they lived. He had planned to drive up there and map out the land, do some preliminary sketches, gauge his perspective. With a sighed He pulled out a canvas and dropped it unceremoniously onto his easel.

This wasn't going to be his best work. Far from it, as a matter of fact. But why put one hundred percent into it?

Kongpob barely regarded the canvas before he started dropping paint on it, haphazardly in some cases, not even noticing when the grass bled up into the sky too far on one side, or how the hill looked more like a humpbacked snake than a majestic hillside. In his head, he could remember the sound of Arthit's chuckling, that cute way he snorted when laughing got the best of him and he couldn't stop. Kongpob smirked at the thought of Arthit standing beside him, teasing him; of how he would shut him up by reaching out an acrylic stained hand and threatening his favorite shirt.

(Flashback)

"Kongpob Suthiluck" Arthit scolded with his hazing voice "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, P' " Kongpob would quip, and very soon the painting would be abandoned. Kongpob pursue after Arhit throughout the house, leaping over furniture and dodging wayward canvases along the way. While Arthit would run outside , imaging that the open stretch of land would give him the advantage, but he would start stripping off his precious shirt along the way, knowing he would get caught.

Arthit was always more athletic than Kongpob sometime gave him credit. Kongpob often wondered his P'Arthit let him catch up on purpose

Eventually the chase would lead back into the house, the shirt discarded carefully on an obliging chair, and Kongpob would win – his 'sun' always allowed him to win. He'd grab P'Arthit around the waist, and drag his body back against his, panting and flushed and hot and simply perfect in every way

Paint would be everywhere by the time they were done making love – sticking to Arthit's hair where Kongpob had run his fingers through it; long stripes streaking the wood boards where Kongpob had raked his nails along the floor, grabbing for purchase; a rainbow of fingerprints all over Arthit's pale skin, down his chest where Kongpob traced the outlines of his muscles, around his wrists where Kongpob pinned him down, curling over his hips where Kongpob held him securely against him.

Kongpon wake up from his daydreaming when he felt the tears prick his eyes and fall. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his work shirt, blinking away the memories of their love. Kongpob looked at his painting, prepared to mock the mess he had made but he stopped...and he stared. His pallet slipped from his hands and crashed to the floor, spattering his shoes and marring the wood.

At some point during his painting, he had fixed the portrayed. It had changes from an eyesore image to memory, a vivid memory. It was the stretch of road in the distance and on it a candy apple red BMW X3 rolling through the hillside with its top down, and two passengers inside. That's him, his muse. He looked so happy; so extremely carefree. He looked so real. Kongpob reached out a hand, fingertips hovering over the paint where Arthit's face looked up at him.