SHARING THE CREDIT ✓

DOCE

12 // A LUCKY CHARM = UN ENCANTO AFORTUNADO

Farah slips into the back seat of the taxi.

Taehyung gets in beside her, knees accidentally bumping as he tells the driver where they're headed. his tone is cordial, straight to the point as he puts his seat belt on. the dark coloured taxi takes off, engine starting as they make their way back to the hotel.

for some reason, Farah feels nervous at the thought of spending time with Taehyung. this is just the beginning of their catching up. there's so much left to say or confess. how does one catch up without prepared questions? even answers.

now she's in the backseat of a taxi with her ex boyfriend, aware that he'll strike up a conversation with her soon. whether it's small or big talk, it's still talk and the bubbly nerves that pile up in her stomach doesn't help. they both have so many complex yet ordinary questions and so many rehearsed answers. their tiresome minds run in sync, far from reach in parallel lines.

as Farah distracts herself with the refreshing view of Spain and its scenic roads, her mind drifts off to remind her of a memory that includes the boy sitting beside her.

Taehyung sits on the stool, one hand holding a paintbrush whilst the other taps the circular, wooden seat. he licks his lips whilst deep in his notions, observing the canvas he had just placed on the floor.

one can easily see the combat behind his perception of his work. his gifted eyes see through the painting, puncturing holes and he wonders if others would see what he sees. no one can truly see what an artist feels when creating.

that's the power of art.

he picks up the canvas again, making brush strokes along the gigantic sunflowers he had painted. it was an impulsive painting idea. he adds strokes he believes makes a difference- yellow, burgundy and white dots.

Farah watches him from her place at the door. she feels lucky that she gets to view Taehyung so privately. there's only a few times when he lets his guard down, such as spending nights on his balcony or visiting the kids at the orphanage. she leans against the azure wall, skinny arms crossed over her chest as she watches the clever man at work. it reminds her of him watching her write, admiration submerging in trained eyes.

seeing Taehyung paint creates an exceptional type of solace for Farah. she likes the way his arm moves with every brush, every stroke of the paintbrushes he uses, even when he dips them in water. veins shoot up his tanned arms, his movements being slack and gentle as his bracelets fall and rise again. hair falls onto his sweaty forehead, sometimes forgetting about his paint stained fingers as he pushes his locks back. his legs stay parted, easel between them and she suddenly wants to stand there, beg to be attended to like his art pieces.

Taehyung notices Farah in the wide doorframe, smiling with his eyes before it reaches his gleaming, coral lips. he watches her staring at his godly, bodily aspects, watching her watching him paint. in that moment, all he wants to do is push her up against the wall and kiss her. make her breathless. tell her she's his.

he stops his aimless painting and scratches his eyelashes. the painter (and writer) gestures towards his lover to come over to him.

Farah acknowledges the wave of his hand, wanting to kiss the vermilion paint that stains his bony knuckles. love is red, i am red with love, she wants to murmur as her chest tightens.

Taehyung opens his arms, allowing Farah to sink into his hold as she sits on his lap. the couple sit on the wooden stool, taking a moment to breathe. they live in two completely different worlds but when they come together, nothing else matters and it's relieving.