Some people often wondered what heaven was made of. What it consisted of. So many theories and questions presented themselves on the subject and he had long ago figured out that, for him, it was the type of those noises that she kept making.
God, those noises...
He missed her dearly and if she ever wanted him to say the words again, he would paint her portrait after portrait of just how much he had missed her. Such words were lost to the heat of the air and the silent chill of the moment, but never far from his mind. Even if he had already spoken such things months ago, she only ever entertained his emotions, and hers, at times like these.
He knew they were both greedy and had been for a long time. They were lost souls who clung onto what little they had shared even though she had gotten over him more than he had her because of her work and the school she was attending. She left Sorbonne after their bachelor's programs were over and came here. They continued through life in their own ways and broke up what they used to share together.
Much to his severe sorrow.
It was easy to forget such facts whenever events like this occurred. He almost thought it possible that, whenever he felt the glorious touch of her skin against his, perhaps she might reconsider and let him in more permanently. That she would find spare moments in the middle of the night or after class to give to him. That she would rescind a decision based on pity for him and realize he didn't care how far away she was, so long as she thought of him from time to time.
He always left satisfied, yet a fool.
She knew; he knew she did. She was well aware of her idiocy and of his begging her to be near. She gave herself away every single time and he could see it. See it in the choppy movements she did, the way she avoided looking at him, the way she gave in to his nearness whenever he could get near enough.
He tried to close himself off from such thoughts, always bittersweet and badly timed, to take solace in the valley of her chest and the warmth he knew no one else had been to. She would never be so desperate with other men aside him. Always him. That was what partially kept him coming back to her. Some dying and pitiful being who would crawl on his hands and knees to her till they were bloody, but somehow keep going toward her.
He panted and paused, clinging to her small frame as she did his. The noises she made died down to whispers, but he tucked them away in the corners of his ears to remember later on. As he usually did.
The feel of her skin under his made his heart swell and clench with each beat. She was so beautiful in many ways and he had known her for so long that he just couldn't give her up. Even if she seemed to walk past him, he would always jog to catch up.
"I need to go take a quick shower before that post office closes..."
He smiled at the giggle and lame joke. He took in the shy glow and rosy cheeks, the teeth that caught her lip in her return hesitancy toward him. He met eyes mere inches from his and tried so hard to keep from kissing her breathless. His smile turned soft; a hand reaching up and smoothed sweaty bangs from her eyes. "Do you have an extra towel I can use? I think I need to as well."
She looked at him as if not expecting him to need to tidy up. She looked away with a choppy nod, lips pressed together. He hid his sigh at her behavior and forced himself from giving her the reassuring kiss on the forehead that he really wanted to give. After a second of every nerve ending memorizing the feel of her legs against his, he slowly untangled himself and sat up.
He sat on the bed, neither of them clinging to any part of clothing in a seamstress's room, and watched her cover her chest with both arms and straighten some of the tangled locks at her cheeks. Part of the beauty died a little as he avidly waited for her eyes to return to his, but they never did. He merely watched her walk away, still admiring that perfect form he knew all too well, and disappear into the closet that was her bathroom.
Giving into the deepest sigh he had let out since the last visit to her bed, he looked around the room with a sense of bittersweet despondence, none of the feelings new, but never pleasant to experience. Why did he keep on doing this to himself? The answer was obvious and simple, yet horribly complicated in its own way.
A hand ran through his hair and scattered some of the sweaty clumps at the back of his neck. After a second, he idly stared at how busy her room looked, having totally ignored it until now, even if he was well aware of how much she did at any given moment. He knew because he had helped to create the name of her business and even some design ideas of previous clothing.
The door opened mere moments later, his beautiful sorrow wrapped in two towels...and looking to the floor as she stopped across the way. He stared at her, trying to keep his expression even, even as his heart clenched in his chest as she almost refused to come any closer or look at him.
"I...used up both of the towels... I can get you something else if you want, but they're just hand towels..."
He hated this. The timidness in her voice after the breathy passion she gave him mere moments ago. He wanted to yell at her, to plead with her, to reason with her, but all he could do was sit there and stare at her fidget with the towel covering her chest, eyes on it.
He stared for what seemed forever before being the better of the two to broach the subject. He finally gave the sigh he wanted to let her hear earlier, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. She finally looked at him, even if his eyes remained on the towel around her head.
He stopped before her and draped his arms over her shoulders, hands toying with the tucked in strands. "I can take this one." He murmured, a gentle smile on his face. "It's okay..."
The final statement was two-faced. He was obviously okay with using a towel she had utilized to wipe herself dry with. He had been for a while. It was the subtle choosing of those words which permitted everything to happen, to the detriment of his feelings for her benefit. Of course he was okay with it, even if some of him wasn't.
The second he looked into her eyes, he found hope, sorrow, and shyness. He lightly kissed her forehead, and that was all it took for him to forgive her and get her to embrace him. Again. As always, she was passionate, she was honest, and she was regretful. He didn't mind everything except that last one. He didn't want her to ever think that what she did was wrong. He would never have given in if it was.
He sighed again as her arms slackened at his waist, her head somehow buried against his shoulder with the towel threatening to cover his face. He managed a small smile and gave her a quick squeeze. Instead of saying anything else, he took the towel from her hair and smelled the shampoo she used, subtly relishing its scent to remember later, before taking it and tossing it over a shoulder. "So...dinner at your parents huh?" He managed a fake grin. "That should be fun."
She tucked a loose strand of wet hair behind an ear and ducked her head with a smile. "Mama will give me 'that look', but she won't mind." Her brow suddenly furrowed. "I think. I don't think she'll care. If she does, I can talk to her later."
"I won't go if it's going to cause problems." He stepped back, putting a finger under her chin to get her to look at him. "I don't want to be a burden to you. You know that."
He watched her eyes gloss over and the rapid blinking, felt her chin wobble. He felt only a little guilty for using such words. He never liked seeing her cry; her smile lit up his life.
He forced a smile to change the situation and playfully patted a cheek. "But you know how I like to live on the edge, right? So why don't we see what today brings and laugh at it tomorrow."
She nodded with a smile, somewhat forced he thought, and stepped back. Her hands went to the towel as she stepped from him for her drawers. "Go get that shower and we'll head out."
He had almost closed the door when the soft plop of cotton met his ears and he quickly spied a glance through the crack to gaze at perfection again before forcing himself away. He really didn't need to see her nude to know how her; he had plenty of portraits and sketches at home already. The last few years had helped shape her beautifully though and he gave into the dreamy look on his face before remembering she was waiting on him.
After a quick rinse and dry, he shuffled into his clothes, noting how she didn't look at him until he was presentable. He bypassed the awkwardness she exuded and went for one of the boxes with more cheer than he felt. He focused more on the rest of the afternoon that he would be able to spend with her, and the amazing food her mother cooked that he missed as well.
"So, am I going to carry all of these or are you going to help me with one?" He smiled, stacking two and bending down to grab them. "I know you called me over to be your slave, so just checking on my work load."
A pair of arms suddenly snaked around his torso and squeezed as tightly as possible. He stumbled and caught himself before they both fell into the wall and looked over a shoulder. He couldn't see anything but midnight with her head buried in his back. "Marinette?"
"I'm...sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I did it again...I'm so sorry."
The pause that followed her apology was the thickest, most palatable thing imaginable. He finally let out a breathy chuckle, lightly patting her hand. His mouth opened to tell her it was okay, but he couldn't get the words out. She knew, and he knew she knew. She was well aware of her actions.
He finally sighed as the only immediate answer he could give and looked to her door as if it would help. There was no smoothing things over; only she could do that. Yet, he didn't want to leave it at this. He wanted her to cheer up and smile for him to get him through the next extended length of time before he managed to see her again.
"Hey," He murmured, "I didn't come over here ignorant." He gently pulled at her hands, but they refused to move and thus he let them stay attached. "I know exactly what your message meant. I think you did too. We both know and we'll continue to know. It's just an unmanageable right now, you know?"
"But...it's never fair to you."
He paused and gave a sad smile to the floor. "As long as you know that." He pulled her arms apart with enough force to tell her to move and turned. He forced a smile and gave in to the kiss he wanted to give earlier. She didn't stop him, but didn't encourage him either. He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, happy his bangs covered most of his view of her. "As long as you're aware, that's enough for me." A hand came up and tapped her head, then her rib cage. "Because I know something still is in there hiding from me." He sat back and feigned a playful look. "But don't think you can let it hide forever Marinette. I'll catch it and then I won't let go." He winked and stood, extending a hand. "Now, about those boxes you lazy loafer..."
01010
"I knew you'd be late, but I didn't know the reason to be this."
"Ah...ha ha ha...sorry I didn't send a message before mama."
"That's okay dear. You knew I was going to have plenty of food ready to give you. You can share it, I suppose."
He greeted Sabine with a kiss on the cheek and a hug, never tiring of the kindness she always gave him. He also noted the raised brow she shot behind him at her daughter, but took her attention to keep incrimination off Marinette. "It's been a while Madame Dupain-Cheng. I hope I'm not interrupting a family moment."
"Nonsense dear. You know you're more than welcome in this household."
He walked around into the living area, chatting with Sabine and greeting Tom when the pair fully entered. The place hadn't changed since he had been here a year ago and he was happy for that. It made the feel of stopped time more permanent...of the ability to live in the past just a little more in reach.
"Did you and papa already finish, mama?"
"We were mostly done, but we can certainly sit with you and Nathaniel while you eat." Sabine put a hand on his back and lightly pushed him to the table. "I'd like to hear what you've been doing over the last year Nathaniel."
He smiled and nodded, taking his old place at the table. "I'd be happy to tell you anything you wish to know Madame Dupain-Cheng."
"You can still call me mama. That's much easier."
His shoulders relaxed a little more when Tom nodded and added he be called "papa" as well. He smiled back, daring to glance at Marinette and found her slightly red and notably embarrassed. "Thank you mama...papa. How have you been these summer months?"
Chatting with the Dupain-Chengs was the best salve in the world. Even after what happened, they treated him like any other person. He didn't know just how much they knew, but they either hid it well or were clueless to whatever Marinette might have given for information. Either way, he was happy for the impromptu invitation and free meal.
"Please give me the recipe for the dish, mama, so I can try my hand at home later." He playfully begged, a teasing glint in his eye. "Although, I know it won't be as good as this, I can certainly try my hardest."
Sabine smiled back. "Artists are also great cooks. Cooking is another form of creation if you have an eye for detail. You'll do just fine."
"You give me too much credit for the size of my kitchen." He kidded, laughing with Tom.
A strong hand clapped lightly on his back. "If you're in dire need of some good food, you can always return with Marinette another time. We enjoy the company of friends."
He gave warm thanks to the invite, spying a quick glance at her across the way. She was way too serious for such a light-hearted offer and he knew that such words wouldn't be put to good use for a long time. It speared his chest a little, but he purposely ignored it and focused on the precious seconds of now. He would make these hours count and think of them as fondly he did the other ones.
01010
"I'm so full! I don't think your mother could have stuffed me any more than if I were a bird for the oven!"
A laugh. "That's because you're still so thin. She was probably worried you were starving."
"The saying about starving artists is true for most, except in my case." He proudly proclaimed, waving a finger in the air.
She smiled and turned to face him as they walked back to her dorm. "How is that going anyway?" Blue quickly looked to the ground before turning pleasant again and meeting his eyes. "It's...been some time since I've had any spare moments to give to you. We should catch up a bit..."
He smiled and clapped a hand on her shoulder when she fell in step with him again. "Yes we should. Friends do that." He ruffled her hair before she could say anything to that. He kept it up amidst her protests and only stopped when she slapped his chest and scurried away. He refused to be down and forced himself a little more cheerful at her put out look. "We all know you're busy with your business, but we're also proud of you, Marinette. I don't hear too many inquires from Juleka anymore about what you're doing because it's always the same answer."
She gave a sheepish grin and looked it. "It doesn't feel like it's been a year, even though it's been more than that." Blue eyes ducked to the ground again. "Tell everyone I'm sorry that I've been so distant, would you?"
He playfully bumped her with an elbow to bring her out of herself. "I'll let you tell them yourself over coffee someday soon. Sound fair?" He threw an arm around her shoulders as they walked. "Besides, if I mention how sorry and sad you are, Rose will get on my case about 'why didn't I cheer you up'; Mylene will be excessively sad and worry about you until she sees you; and Juleka will back up Rose and get on my case."
She smiled and looked to him. "Coffee sounds nice. Hopefully when most of my Christmas orders are out of the way, I'll schedule an entire afternoon of no work and no school just for my Sorbonne classmates."
"Now THAT I can relay because I want to see the shock on their faces at you putting aside free time." He ducked the hand meant for his arm and laughed. "Should be interesting. I can try sketching you the aftermath and show it to you later."
"Don't bother." She scoffed, arms crossing in annoyance. "I already know what it'll look like."
They stopped at the edge of her dorm and paused. She looked to him hesitantly and he tried to mesmerize exactly how deep of blue her eyes were in the dark.
"I'm sorry I haven't been able to contact you for a while... You know how it is." She mumbled, hand fiddling with her coat.
He embraced her without a response and gave a quick squeeze. He was silent, save for breathing in her hair, and not hiding such an action. He stepped away, clapping both hands on her shoulders with a friendly look. That's what they were after all, he reminded himself again.
"I've got to get back and get to work." He side-stepped. "I've got a landscape painting to finish, one charcoal still-life to do, and sudden inspiration for a private thing I want to do tonight." His hand cupped her cheek, eyes softening. "You be good. I'll be expecting something for Noel, you hear? My hat and scarf have been overly used and I think one of my mittens is fraying."
Her eyes misted through a small smile. "Your...order has been received..." She lamely kidded, hand gently covering his. "I...need payment Monsieur, before I start any work though... You know that."
Why she would ask that of him at their status, he had no clue. He wasn't going to second guess her and ask questions though.
His lips briefly covered hers before he forced himself to step back from her reach. "Paid in full and I expect it by Noel." His eyes squinted through a playful wag of his finger. "If I don't see anything on my doorstep by the day of, I'll come find you and complain about your business."
Her mouth opened, but whatever words she originally planned on saying were lost to the cold. She merely nodded and took a step backward, eyes on him. "Thanks for hanging out today, Nathaniel." A gloved hand rose. "I'll see you by Noel."
"And that coffee." He nodded and waved before forcing himself to turn first and walk away. Otherwise they'd spend the next ten minutes staring and waving at each other with no one moving.
He didn't wait for her to get inside safe and sound like a proper gentleman did. He had used up the remaining fake graces he could muster and needed to get away before he soured the night and said things he didn't want to. He knew they would only make her sad and then she really would stop talking to him because they would be awkward all over again. That had finally smoothed itself out and he didn't want to return things to how they had been.
The last five months had been something of a stalemate that she seemed to be able to live with. Partially because she was busy working and partially because they conversed more over text than face-to-face. He took whatever she would give; too hopeless and greedy to do much else.
The walk back home was quiet and morose. He didn't care to be there, though he had plenty of small portraits of her hidden away to stare at for as long as he wanted. They weren't the real thing he had just experienced, but they would have to do starting now. Even when the recent memory of her would fade, or ignite him, he would go back to the photos of her that he had made.
The place was dark when he slipped in, but he expected it to be. Everyone was asleep and thus he tiptoed as much as possible over the hardwood flooring to his room so his mother and sister wouldn't be disturbed.
The smell of paints and remover greeted him the second the door opened. He scrunched up his nose to them and opened the window to let some of the smell out before taking up the palette resting on his bed. Letting all of the emotions of the last hour engulf him, he grabbed a brush and idly poked at one of the thick chunks resting on the wood.
He worked without really seeing, already back in her room without his clothes and going through every good and bad emotion. The brush moved upon his command without stop until the entire canvas was covered with oil. Only then did the grip on the palette loosen, his brush allowed a break. Only then did he stop and actually take a look at what he had made; what he had expressed in the only way he could as a catharsis for his feelings.
The background was a blur of color; chunks sloshed on as if he couldn't make up his mind on what to use first. They blended only slightly with the other rainbows, looking more like waves than actual lines. Blues and purples made up the form of a man, him he knew, bending over the mass of pinks and reds that made up the nude form of a faceless woman. The most notable part was the thinness of the neck at the angle her head was thrown back to. The face was gone with barely a note of an eye to show it was human at all. If he stared hard enough, long enough, he could tell her mouth was open with the noises he had probably heard in the back of his head while he worked.
It was erotic, yet there was a feel of sorrow with all the dark colors making up the background. She was the brightest of the entire picture; everything to draw the eye to the angled arms and legs that were being lavished.
The hair didn't match either of them, but it didn't need to. He would forever know from the date alone what it would signify. It was everything he felt toward her, everything he just experienced with her today, wrapped up in one twelve-by-fourteen canvas. Perhaps in the future he would show it to others, see if it would catch anything on the market, but for now it was his selfish emotion; his beautiful time with her.
He stared at it for the longest time before sighing and standing to put it away, having looked at it long past its drying time. He dated and signed it on the back before carefully wrapping it up and putting it under his bed with the other sketches and paintings of her to look at in the months before him.
ART: cdn chobirdokan com/wp-content/uploads/SEA-OF-FEELINGS-%E2%80%94-PALETTE-KNIFE-Oil-Painting jpg