A Watercolor Life

One thousand four hundred forty minutes and over eighty six thousand seconds later, she was still dreaming. She was still floating. Above reality and life, she was still capable of looking at the sky and silently promising each one of them a goodnight kiss. She felt like an angel that had woken up from a bad dream, only to still find herself on her cloud; drifting through paradise and beyond. Neverland and Wonderland couldn’t quite cut it. She was further than that- she wasn’t even here anymore. She was living her dream.

Yet, that day wasn’t the most brilliant of them all. It was the day she’d meet up with the boys and properly display the end of her deal. She had gathered all of her sketches and finished paintings, arranging them accordingly and professionally. Seeing all those color smiles aimed at her had never been so terribly nostalgic. She could still recall the random outbursts she’d have to deal with whenever she tried to finish her project. Part of her knew, deep inside, that they somehow did everything on purpose. But they, and her included, had been trying to stall inevitable. And here it was.

Today was the inevitable.

She thought she would feel sadder. Granted, she wasn’t rejoicing or anything. Au contraire. She was particularly saddened, but not on the borderline of depression as she had expected. It was nice. But she knew it was thanks to that dazzling smile she’d be graced with from time to time. She felt sixteen again, sneaking out of school with her forbidden love just to share a kiss or two. At first, everything had been that way. Complete secrecy and James Bond environment, until the paparazzi struck and took the first shot of them together. Oddly enough, they decided that a flustered Za and a coffee soaked Seungho was news worthy. She would never come to fully understand the Korean media.

“Need some help?” Chan was walking towards Za with a trademark smile. Her eyes absolutely sparkling with energy. Somehow, she knew Mir was behind all of that.

“N’aw. I’m okay, but you can walk with me. What have you been up to, anyway?” Both girls walked down the hallway, the redhead carefully carrying her portfolio.

“Same old. Mischief here, badassery there. Like a boss. You?”

“You make your life sound oh so interesting. Actually, I’ve been painting. All. Fucking. Week.” and I found my true love. She decided to keep that one to herself, knowing all too well that Chan would somehow –and most likely- grab that content and do something absolutely devious with it. Wouldn’t be a shocker, actually.

“Yeah, right. As if you didn’t take a break to smooch up Seungho.” She slowed her pace.

“Huh?”

“I am Chan, the omnipotent wise one. Actually, serious and all, I read it in the news. You’ve caused quite the commotion.” Her grin was positively face-splitting.

“Damn it, those bitches.” She made a small noise of irritation and continued walking. Chan silently followed. They could both breathe in the unsaid, every word weighing with everything they didn't want to voice.

“So, what are you doing later tonight?”

“Oh, nothing. I guess. Maybe sacrifice a lamb or two so God can answer my prayers. You?” Lary stopped walking and opened a door, entering an empty conference room.

“Lamb sacrifices. Nice. Well, Mir said we were going to have a 'fun time', but you know how he views fun. For all I know, we can end up watching paint dry. Again.”

Lary snorted softly, grabbing her portfolio and taking out every painting with precise care. “Mir is just all around weird. I wonder if he has a funny ass, too. Oops, wait, now that I think of that, he does have a pretty firm-”

“You'll regret ever speaking. I'm serious.” Her glare was downright searing.

Lary smiled for the seventieth time that day. “Oh, come on! It's not like I'm the only one that thinks that. Besides, you're lucky you have such a fine man by your side. Or on top of you, depending on the scene.”

“Wait! We've never had sex, if that's what you're implying.” Chan's face suddenly gained a shade of deep crimson. Lary blinked twice before looking down at her paintings and arranging them.

“I'm having a hard time believing you. But whatever helps you sleep...”

Her voice small, but she coughed and straightened up. “Anyway, how many did you do?”

“Men? None. Paintings? A godly amount. Well, twenty five to be precise.”

Chan whistled. “That sure is a godly amount. How did you even finish?”

Za fell silent, a softer smile smoothing over her previous one. “I had inspiration.” His smile, his voice, his eyes, his kindness, his being, his everything. The way he held the door for her, yet the way he forgot his manners and slurped his noodles. Even the way his lips would twitch downwards when something was unsatisfying or irritating. Or was it the way his tired eyes would lighten up whenever he saw her? She would never know. She just knew that thanks to him, everything was going to be okay. And these paintings- these paintings were loud declamations of it.

“Speak no more. I get it.”

Both girls finished arranging the paintings and sat down to have a small chat. They spoke from the hot doorman that worked in a nearby hotel, to the peculiar taste sushi had. They equally smiled and laughed. They even got around to confessing about their lack of cuisine experience. They both deduced that they owed a lifetime of slavery to the microwave. Even though Za was, of course, more experienced with cooking than Chan. She was just hopeless.

Once they both fell silent, the atmosphere shifted to a more bored tune. Za sighed and rested her chin on her extended hand, glancing at the door and voicing just how much those assholes were expecting her to wait. Chan was already dozing off on the table, her arms awkwardly wrapping around her head. She simply grunted.

“They're fucking late, and I haven't eaten breakfast yet. I can honestly go out and eat a street cat. Maybe skin it and roast it a bit... on a stick...”

“Fluh fenf.” Chan's reply was barely understandable. Well, not really. It just caused Za to whine a bit and start prodding the younger girl to wake the fuck up. Because she was bored, and she needed her entertainment. Much to her surprise, the girl's head went straight up, her hooded eyes glancing around in alarm.

“I didn't fall asleep.” She started to rub her eyes and wipe the corners of her mouth. She even checked her breath, only to slightly recoil from it.

“Is it humanly possible to fall asleep that quickly?”

Chan scoffed and rested her chin on the table, staring at the door with languid eyes. “I'm just a badass mofo.”

Za never got the chance to reply, the words sticking to the back of her throat and the tip of her tongue. She heard the light click on the door and the silent swing of it. Her back went straight, and she noticed that even Chan had gotten a hold of the meaning of some correct posture. When she saw what she saw, she honestly did not know if she should either get on her knees and scream thank to the heavens, or just cry because it was too beautiful.

“Hello,” his English was so smooth, it made her want to purr for more. She was slightly shocked with the willingness she'd do it with. “I'm Bi Rain, leader of MBLAQ.”

Za stared at him. Was he talking? Did it matter? All she could wonder was when that sleeveless shirt was going to disappear. Maybe get ripped off. Or bitten off. He was certainly a sweet piece of chocolate when he sat down. She stared at his mouth. Those angles, she could definitely stare at those angles. And sweet mother of god did he just lick his lips that is too much. Too much.

“Call me Lary. I'm Lary.”

He smiled. Her cervix cracked. Life was beautiful.

“I know,” so pleasant. “I must be honest, this is more beautiful than I expected.”

Take it off. Now. She felt like a cat in heat, just about ready to start panting at any given moment. She just smiled and waved her hand, telling him in a high-pitched voice that she was flattered. For safety reasons, she crossed her legs. Didn't want to shower the whole room with her ruptured ovaries.

Much to her disappointment, they did not discuss the constitution of a six-pack and instead focused on the paintings and which would be used and which wouldn't. During the conversation, Lary suffered through significant memory loss and answered completely unrelated things. When he asked about the angles of the light, she answered by telling him that the lips were exactly as in the picture. He just laughed it off and called her cute. She swallowed a significant moan.

“I like this one. It's very... sensual.”

She gripped the edge of the table. Her mind was running wild. Naked Leader dancing under the rain with a certain full-lipped multi-talented fine assed boy. She honestly didn't know if he asked her something. All she could see was how his lips moved and smiled.

It wasn't until 1 hour into the meeting that Lary finally, finally, finally got her head straight. She learned to stare at his eyebrows instead of his eyes, and listen to his voice while picture something not sexy in order to avoid lust overdrive. She had never felt this attraction in her life. Much to her astonishment, not even Seungho made her feel this hot and bothered.

“I confess, this is remarkable work.” He was leaning on his chair, his left leg casually draped across his right knee, both of his hand weaved together on his lap. “Very satisfying.” His grin was devious yet inviting, and Lary found herself smiling along even before she could think about it. She reacted when a hand snaked over her thigh and dug its fingers into her skin. Chan was also smiling, yet it wasn't quite inviting.

Rain's eyes were staring right at Lary, that placid smile never leaving his lips. “I believe we need to discuss this over dinner.” She was snapped right out of her dream world. “I wanted to see the results before discussing a real price.” Ah, yes, the job. The meeting. It made sense. Everything but that one thing.

“Dinner?”

“Does 8 sound alright? I know where you live.” A dazzling smile. Shameless. So shameless. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” And he stands, as if everything is alright. Like nothing in the world is wrong and that everything is just going like he wants it to. She can't speak. She can't stand. She stares at his back as Chan grabs her shoulder. She is speaking. She can't listen. She feels terrible.

“Lary, come on. Snap out of it.” She can't. “We gotta send these to the editor.”

“... yeah.”

She feels torn and terrible, like her insides committed mutiny. Her Neverland and Wonderland is crumbling. She is trying to get a hold on that thin string they call reality. She doesn't want to. She wants to go out and meet up with Seungho. She wants to see his shabby hair and smile for him. Twenty five breaths and three blinks later, she wants to go back in time and say no.

But she doesn't know to what or who. Because deep inside, she knows she said yes.