Dance to This [kth]

t w e n t y • e i g h t

ミ★
twenty-eight
❝talks, aches & pains❞
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"You have a little bit. . ." I trail off with a smile before reaching over the divider to pull a flake of paint out of Taehyung's hair.

My smile is genuine, but it masks the apprehension I feel now that our alone time is ending. My worries and concerns seem minuscule as my energy and time is spent with him; the canvas we created. . . the life we painted. . . I continuously remind myself that the darkness plaguing the deepest depths of my mind are vibrantly tainted with splashes of our colors together. They protect me, and swirl around in my vision as I look at him. It helps me focus on what is happening right now instead of everything that happened earlier: his incredibly endearing smile.

"So do you," he remarks lightly.

That's an understatement. Dried paint has found its way on almost everything I own. I managed to get most of the paint out in the gallery's back room with the industrial sinks, but the small speckles hidden under my nails, fluttering around in my hair, and sparsely spread out on my bag and skirt were too difficult to clean. I do have to admit that most of my energy had been spent already. . . and the glasses of wine I consumed were not much help either. I think Taehyung is aware of how easily the alcohol has gotten to me, because he continues to double glance at me when he thinks I'm not looking.

I roll my eyes at his diligence. It's just as endearing as his smile.

When Taehyung turns onto campus, I already know he is heading behind the Science Building to avoid being spotted. I sink into the passenger seat anyway, keeping my head down as if that would do anything against the prying eyes of scattered Loomis students walking along the pavement.

The dark weather is helping slightly. The clock reads 6:37PM, and the sun is setting deep into the horizon behind the cloudy sky. Loomis feels grey and barren although there is light and loud cheers erupting from the sports' field in the distance. It's an unsettling atmosphere that is unfortunately overwhelming me in the car; I can't escape this feeling I have being on campus now. It's as if the last few hours with Taehyung weren't enough to convince me everything is okay. No amount of hours would do that. Only when we are alone in our little bubble do I feel . . . okay.

"Thank you," I say softly once we are stationary in the parking lot. "So much. . . you. . . I. . ."

I can't find the words to express how much our time together making the canvas means to me. When I look into Taehyung's eyes, I feel as though that maybe I can mentally project my unspoken feelings and thoughts. I'm almost waiting for him to persist that I speak my mind, but he doesn't. Instead, Taehyung reaches over and takes my hand into his. His cold fingers clasp around my warm ones in a loving gesture, holding me delicately as if I'm a fragile paintbrush ready to make the smallest, final touch to a piece.