Orange

four

I am still sobbing when I hear an awkward cough from across the elevator. I completely forgot that rotten orange is in here with me, it is so dark and quiet, it feels like I am the only person alive on this earth. 

With a sniffle, I wipe my nose on my sleeve, wincing as I do so, I haven't got any tissues on me. I try to pull myself together, it will be okay, I just have to wait until the power comes back on.

Rotten orange murmurs something softly and I almost don't hear it. His voice is deep and a little throaty from emotion. I cannot understand what he is saying. I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands and cough a little, clearing my throat.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Korean." My voice is croaky, like I have been smoking a pack a day for fifty years or I have just cried my heart out in the presence of a stranger. 

I pick myself up from my current position, curled up in a ball, and sit against the wall.

He mumbles something under his breath, and the blinding light of his phone turning almost blinds me. I cover my eyes with my hands, and peek out through gaps in my fingers. 

The light illuminates his face and filters through his bright orange hair. It is kind of mesmerising, like a strange orange cloud floating in a sea of black. I feel myself inch towards him, like a moth to a flame.

His face is all sharp lines and shadows in this light,  making him look shadowy and mysterious. His eyes are half closed, like a sleepy baby, and his lips are slightly pursued. His jacket is slung carelessly over his shoulders, its positioning so artfully placed that he looks like he is advertising army jackets. To be honest, I'd buy one. 

I inch a little closer, mesmerised by his beauty. I can't seem to be able to stop staring at him. The artist within me is screaming at me to TAKE A PHOTO.

So, I do. 

I take my phone out casually and open my camera app. Now, what I am about to do is not ethically correct, and taking a non-consensual photo is totally not okay. But my fingers have a life of their own as they tap away at the screen, line up the shot and press the big red button.

*Flash*

Heck. 

He turns to look at me, surprised, and I panic, feeling like a deer in headlights. But, instead of turning off my phone and making up some excuse, my finger continues to press the button and the flash continues to go off. 

His face turns to face me in slow motion, and his expression is a little terrifying. His eyebrows raised in a smouldering glare. I know that I have messed up...badly. 

With a squeak I turn off my phone, enveloping us in darkness. It is now pitch black, and my heart is racing.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He growls something under his breath that makes my 'fight or flight mode' to kick in. I hear the squeak of his boots against the steel floor and I know he is not playing games. So I throw myself across the elevator, desperate to get away.

My body hits the wall hard, and my breath is knocked from my lungs. My back aching and knees throbbing, I scramble away from where I assume he is. I can hear him sigh in frustration, and I freeze. 

I try to be as quiet as possible, slowing my breathing and ceasing all movement. I creep across the elevator floor like a mouse, my hands feeling around in front of me.

I am almost there when I accidently drag my shoe against the floor, making a loud drawn-out 'squeeeeeak.' 

Heck. 

I scramble across the steel floor desperately, I only made it a few steps before he is on me.

Literally on me. His leap was so accurate that he has his body draped over me, and I am pressed against the floor. The only sound is our mingled breathing and my heart beating a mile a minute in my ears. 

My breathing falters when I feel a presence on my rear. The pervert is feeling me up. I growl something unintelligible as his hand stops at the bulge of my phone.

I move so fast I am a blur. I rip my phone from his hands, haul him off me, and sit on my phone. This all takes place in seconds. I have won.

He reaches beneath me, under my sit bones and snags it from my hands. I am so shocked by the second occurrence of his hand on my rear, that I just sit in shock. The nerve of the man!

He is trying to get into my phone when I snap to my senses and snatch it back.

"Okay, okay, I'll delete them!" I cry, breathing loudly. 

I can feel his breath against the back of my neck as I go into photos, and I try desperately to not be aware of our proximity. I exaggerate deleting all the photos. Well, all but one. What can I say, it's a work of art and I cannot bring myself to wipe its existence from this earth. He doesn't have to know. 

We sit in the dark, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. I shift away from him and lean against the wall, closing my eyes. He mutters something beside me, his voice filled with sass. I can only assume that I have just been insulted, and can't help but grin a little.

Our breath is the only sound, and although it feels as though we are in a tomb, it's almost comfortable. Despite the disdain that radiates from rotten orange's entire being, I feel strangely at ease.

Although, I do take off one of my shoes, heel facing outwards, just in case. If he makes any advances I will not hesitate to give him a little knock on the temple if needed.

I am just about to lay down for a rest when a loud gurgle fills the silence. My stomach has announced its presence. I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. I am mortified. Just like every time my stomach grumbles in public, I want to dig a hole and hide in there for the rest of my days.

But he does something so strange yet wonderful. 

He laughs. 

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When Tae laughs, I laugh.

Who is your bias? 

- B x