───𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘.

A Poet and a Painter Pt.2 [Nihachu]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

second encounter.

In which Niki found herself sat below the very same cherry tree for the second time that week, though by which motive she found herself unsure of. she'd told herself it was merely due to the fact that finally, spring had arrived and she needed to breathe in the fresher air of spring in order to heal fully. Moreover, she'd convinced herself, she wrote more than enough that evening under the tree.

That perhaps returning would unlock yet another stream of consciousness to flow through her mind freely.

Though she refused to entertain the idea that such a stream of consciousness had been provoked by the person sat underneath the tree beside her.

Albeit, somewhere inside her, there was a desire; a hidden desire that was quite simple in its truthfulness; an innocent wish that she would once again meet you if she returned to this place. And though she tried to push away such a desire, she found it irrefutable that it was such a desire that had compelled her to this moment in time, wherein she found herself camped underneath the cherry tree once more.

The notebook lay discarded to her side as she watched the sky bloom. Blues transitioned into pumpkins and orchids and flushed pinks painted the skyline, dipping into callous blackish blues that descended into subtle sooty blacks. She let a single breath pass her lips as she observed once more the tree under which the person had been sat. Huddled under the tree and lost in their thoughts.

Just then, rustling grass reached her ears once more and she heard a voice.

"You come here often, then?" a soft voice; smooth and silky and not from this region.

she looked up, locking eyes with you not daring to allow her shock to betray her. You stared down at her, sketchbook hanging under your arm, a box of paints held in your other hand.

"Um- yeah, now it's spring."

"I understand why," you mused, "it's a wonderful place,"

Your voice was like a different melody to her ears; a combination of the most beautiful orchestral pieces she'd ever heard played in assonance. Not a tinge of dissonance tainted your tone.

"Yeah..." she mumbled, gaze not leaving your own, "and yourself?"

"I just moved around here, though I feel this may become my new favourite location for art," you grinned, "and what are you doing here? You write?"

"I'm a poet," she frowned, "well, A failed poet. A hopeful poet. Call it what you want, I've probably heard it all from my parents anyway," she clarified with pursed lips 

"Well, Ms. Poet, who was it that said something about our fate not being able to be taken away from us? So if your fate is to become a poet, then so be it. Don't give up, though," you never faltered in your smile the entire time.

She raised an eyebrow, "Dante?"

"Mhm! That's the one! Italian bloke" you mused, "anyway... I'm sorry for intruding your work-time, Ms. Poet, I'll leave you now,"

You turned, intending to return to the tree that she'd admired you underneath the previous day, but she found herself halting you verbally -

"What's your name?"

You paused, pivoting on one foot as you turned to flash her a slight smile that seemed incomparable to any amount of Romantic poetry she'd ever read throughout her life; the mere gesture seemed to transcend any sort of linguistic barrier. If she combined all the languages in the world; all the semantic fields describing such emotions of love, she was sure even then she wouldn't come across a sentence that could hold a candle to your own beauty.

"(Name). And yourself? Or would you prefer me to address you simply as Ms. Poet?"

"Niki" she murmured with slight rosiness of pink awning her face 

"Alright then, I shall remember that, Niki" 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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 whenever I see you,

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