Who Names The Colors

The Next Life

"You look so fucking handsome!" Jo blurted the minute she walked into her bathroom. She hadn't really meant to. She knew it would draw out a smirk that she'd have to kiss off of his face. The words just jumped out of her mouth like clowns out of a car.

There simply was not time for that anyway.

They had been glued at the hip, really the groin, for the last week whenever they could be. After their long night not painting, they had spent the next day watching movies and eating fruit in her bed. They actually made it into the studio on Saturday night and Harry had scampered off to get his Kali painting, but had called her quickly from the road.

"Hey, did you forget something?" She'd answered, he'd only been gone for a bit, her wet hair still had a residue of conditioner as it slicked over her shoulders when she popped out of the shower to pick up. She'd barely been able to wash his scent off. Jo was sure he'd be back in the near future to cover her in it again. But she'd thrown his hoodie on when she heard her phone ring plastering her hair down.

"Do you have knickers on?" He laughed at his joke, "dumb question, do you have trousers on?"

"I can, I just got out of the shower, I haven't even combed my hair."

"Put on some joggers and come outside."

"You should be halfway home by now!" Jo marveled.

"I would, except, I want you to come with me." She could hear the dimples, he was mighty pleased with himself.

"It's an hour Harry!" She heard herself brimming. "We can be apart for an hour."

"We can, but let's not. Yeah?" She melted.

She'd run out into the light rain in knickers she found at the bottom of her sock drawer and his huge sweater and went with him to get his newest painting and supplies.

That was the way things had been between the night of the storm, when he'd arrive at her doorstep soaking, and today.

His graduation day.

It felt like she was culminating too.

The danger wasn't over, but they could lay low and be safe and tackle the real issues around them, the people they loved, and telling them, rather than phantom fears at school.

Harry got his first - for his Amber Jo.

She was really proud, especially because it didn't even show the real growth he had had over the year. But when she told him how she'd made that first move because she recognized herself in fields of gold, he wouldn't hear of submitting any other work.

He was also asked to make a speech for the art department graduation ceremony. He'd been stressing about it.

So Jo had done her best to keep his balls empty, his belly full, and his hands busy. Harry had done the speech for her a couple of times, and for days he would bust out at random with platitudes and quoted. Her walk out of her bedroom with Matisse coming out of his lips, or she remembered and Aristotle quote even. At this point she wasn't sure why he was paying rent at his apartment, except for the brief interludes where he needed something from there, he was at hers.

Since they had rekindled, though she thought that was a funny word considering the bright torch she carried around for those 17 days, he had only been home briefly.

This morning, while she was folding his boxers, he had shown her how he liked them done. Jo tended to roll underpants.

"I like em in half and laid out, less to fuss with." He'd shown her and she'd watched his hands.