"Will you be my muse?" I ask her.
She stares at me, eyes wide and mouth agape, before replying.
"You may," she answers. "But may I inquire as to why?"
It is a good question. Since the first party we attended together, I have been making drawings of her without telling her. At this point, I have an entire sketchbook full of artwork of her. So why am I requesting permission now? I'm not too convinced myself, but I suppose I want to try out the oil paints she gifted me. And who would be a better test subject than someone I have practiced repeatedly on? The oil paint is the motive I provide her.
She hums in understanding, consenting more enthusiastically now.
So we return to the boarding house. The sky has begun to change from a sea of blue to an ocean of reds, oranges, and pinks. At the same time, Selene's hair loses a lot of black to fade into grey and white. Since her hair is up, the shades mix with one another, making it hard to discern where each color begins and ends.
I watch her adjust her scarf as we walk toward the train station. She has been fidgety since we left the hospital. I don't think my mom said anything harsh to her; she is not that kind of woman. But clearly they had some sort of exchange that is bothering Selene. I hope I can get her to tell me what it is. If not that, then at the least ease her mind somehow.
Once we arrive, I explain to her that I wish to paint a portrait of her. "Wear whatever you like, style yourself however you want. Though, I suggest you dress in something comfortable because this is going to take a while."
She nods and heads to her room. Meanwhile, I set up everything I will need in mine. I have neither a proper easel nor a canvas. But I have cardstock thick enough to sustain paint, and if I adjust some textbooks and the corner table around, I can create a makeshift easel. I wish I had a stool, but I guess I'll have to make do with a desk chair. The next question that arises is where should I paint Selene.
The rooms at the dormitory are not large enough to accommodate lots of furniture. There is my work desk, my rug, and my bed. My gaze lingers on the bed. The process is going to take a few hours, and I should take care that her arthritis does not incite. Not to mention, stretch the wounds on her back. Perhaps I should have her position on the bed …
A blush creeps up the back of my neck. Sure, we have shared a bed many nights. Some nights hers, other nights mine. But there is something deeply more intimate about making her pose for a long period of time on an item representative of comfort and intimacy. Just imagining it is making me lose my cool. What will become of me when my fantasy becomes reality? Get a hold of yourself, Shouto.
A knock resounds on my door. I open it, and Selene steps inside.
I have to physically restrain my hand from reaching up to my neck.
With a Queen Anne neckline, trumpet sleeves beginning at the elbows, and a skirt flaring at the waist, Selene is dressed in a stunning white gown. It is simple, with no decorations or embroidery, except for one. The lapis lazuli pendant. It dangles from her neck, making the deep blue almost glow against the white background. Gloves and choker the color of her skin are almost unnoticeable. That is not all that catches my attention. Her hair is open, save for some bobby pins holding the tresses behind her face. And hiding those pins are flowers. Dark red carnations and snowdrops. I have rarely seen Selene wear the same set of flowers more than once, let alone wear different species at the same time. Yet she has done both. Alternating between red and white, the crown contrasts with the black and grey tones of her hair. The moon white ends are just a few shades lighter than the frost white of the gown.
Selene clasps her hands together. "You said to dress cozily, but I was not sure if that was the only requirement. Should I remove the blossoms? Or the pendant?"
"Leave them," I breathe out, still reveling in awe. "They look beautiful on you."
She looks away shyly. The meanings behind her gestures are not lost on me. The pendant is a gift from me, and carnations and snowdrops are January birthflowers. In her own, quiet manner, she is reminding me that I am a part of her. Maybe I mean something more to her. For my last birthday, she left a light pink carnation. I had interpreted it as gratitude and affection. However, red holds a more evocative meaning. A color typically associated with ardor and devotion. Of deep love. I would like to believe that my feelings are reciprocated with equal intensity.
Realizing I have been silent for too long, I swallow and speak again. More level, this time. "You can sit wherever you want. I recommend the bed so that your joints don't start aching immediately."
"All right." Setting aside her glasses on the nightstand, she does as I suggest. Climbing onto the bed, she tries various positions. Sitting on the edge, leaning against the frame, knees tucked close. She thinks neither of those poses are good for a portrait. I agree. I want something where I can capture her elegance. We have a discussion about which would be best, when she decides to try something new. "How about this?" Selene lies on her stomach. Sparing a moment to spread out her curls, she rests her arms below her head, facing in my direction. With eyes looking down, she portrays the lover-lost-in-memories image perfectly. "Would this work?"
"Yeah … That should be good."
Control yourself, Shouto.
Then she adjusts again. Rotating ninety degrees, so her head is still closest to me but the body is farther away, she lies across the shorter width of the rectangular bed. Her tresses flare out into a waterfall over the bed, as she hangs her head just slightly off the edge. The pendant rests above her heart. Her knees bend and tilt at an angle. One arm draped over her waist, and the other resting by her side, face level, I gulp audibly. "Something is missing," she murmurs. She summons another dark red carnation and inhales its fragrance. "Better. How about this, Shouto?"
If there is such a thing as more perfect, then this is it. "That's brilliant. We can start now."
Actually, that last sentence is for me. A warning to stop thinking about how I wish I were that carnation in her hand and begin sketching her outline. But it is so hard not to. The way her gaze falls on the flower, the manner in which her tendrils coil and curl on the umber brown bedsheets, the sophisticated, masterful technique of arranging her limbs … it is tantalizing.
I think of her as mine. I call her mine. But deep down, I know she is not. That sensation has never been apparent more so than now. I feel like she is something I cannot have. Someone I can never love to the fullest. She is unobtainable and forbidden, yet I cannot stop myself from desiring her.
I would love to do nothing more than whisper to you that you are the owner of my heart. I want to hold you. To kiss you. Your cheeks, your jaw, your forehead, your cute, little nose, your soft neck, and your lips. As I caress your lips with mine, I want to shower my emotions on you. With unspoken words, all the affection I hold for you will come pouring out in a flood. And yet there will still be plenty more to spare. I want to kiss every one of your scars, erasing away every shame and nightmare you carried with yourself to date. One and a half years ago, I never thought that you would come to mean the universe to me. Now, I cannot fathom ever parting from you. My moon, my moonbeam, my moonlight … please do not ever stop gleaming.
A melancholic sting permeates the inside of my mouth. I ignore it to retrieve a charcoal pencil. Starting with the basic outline, I draw the lines of the bed and curves of her figure. Selene put a lot of thought into what to wear. Though the gown may be plain, it hugs her body in a way that accentuates her contours. Perhaps that is what is making her so much more ravishing.
Once the profile is completed, I begin on organizing the tubes of paints and paintbrushes.
Selene chooses this moment to speak. "Say, Shouto, what do you think about the red string of fate?"
Of all subjects, I had not expected her to bring up that one. "Why the sudden curiosity?"
She takes another whiff of the flower. Then she replies, "Your mother mentioned it when you went to the restroom. So I've been intrigued."
So that was what was on her mind this whole time? I got worried over nothing. I consider her question. It's not something I thought about much growing up. Seemed overly optimistic and romantic at the time. Something that would give a stark reminder of what I did not have. So obviously, I was repulsed. Now, not so much. I begin painting in the eyes. Mixing black and white with a hint of blue, I get a shade of grey close to her eyes. To get the metallic effect, I add a bit of iridescent sheen fluid. Meanwhile, I answer her question. "I'm not too sure myself. I guess it would make me happy to know that I had a soulmate out there. Someone who could accept me for my past while encouraging me to overcome my flaws. Someone who would understand me and yet push me to do my best. Then I could do the same for them. At least, I hope that my soulmate will be someone like that."
Selene hums, contemplating my response. "What if your soulmate was not a good person? What if your relationship is full of knots and tangles? Could you accept someone like that?"
"In other words, you're asking if I believe that they would be worth the challenges." She affirms. "It depends on what they have done that makes them a bad human being. The least I could do is give them a chance to explain themselves. Based on that, I could decide if I am willing to fight for them or not."
She lets out a little laugh. "That is so very you, Shouto. Pragmatic yet a little hopeful. Most of the time, those two traits conflict with each other, but somehow, you manage to find harmony between them."
I have finished filling in the irises. The eyes are complete. Half-lidded and obscured, a slight shimmer reflects from the silver combination, so I think I got close enough to the actual thing. The next step is the face. Color in the dark parts and shadows and slowly progress to the lighter tones. Gaze alternating between Selene and the cardstock, I match where her shadow is falling on the bed and on paper. "Sometimes aspiration is practical. And giving the benefit of doubt to one's partner is basic human decency, is it not? Is that a bad thing?"
She smiles softly at the carnation. "No. It is not a bad thing. Would you expect the same from your soulmate if the person whose character was in question was you?"
"Of course," I reply instantly. "Love should go both ways. People talk about unconditional love being the truest form of love, but I'm not too sure about that. I just cannot imagine loving someone who will never put in as much effort as I do. It's hard to fall in love and even harder to stay in it. So if I can give an opportunity to hear them out, I expect the same courtesy in return."
Having finished the dark areas, I focus on the light areas. Selene has a skin tone similar to mine, so I estimate what ratios of brown, yellow, and white will be needed. As I mix, I wonder what it would be like if my red string of fate were attached to Selene's finger. She often says that I am a better person than her. Once she explained that she felt that way because she committed 'horrible things.' Knowing that she is a victim of sexual assault, I figured that those deeds must be related to that. Essentially, she blames herself for what happened to her. Is she asking me all this because she wants to know if anyone could possibly cherish her in spite of her past? Mom's words had a greater effect on her than I had thought.
I open my mouth to ask her as much when she beats me to it. "That's understandable. Well, enough about fate and love. Tell me how the painting procedure works."
She's diverting the subject. I can see that, but I have no right to push. Not yet, at least. For now, I'll humor her, but this is a conversation we will have to return to sooner or later. Maybe I should be the one to bring it up. Regardless, I explain how oil painting works. Describing how I organized everything and the steps I have completed thus far, she listens with rapt attention. I appreciate that she asks me questions about the terms involved and the purpose behind each step.
One of her questions is, "How do you decide which lighting works best for the painting you seek to create?"
"Good question. It really depends on the context and the sensation you wish to invoke in the viewer. Dim lighting and lots of shadows generate an atmosphere of sinister and mystery. Bright lighting creates joy and jubilation. However, that is not a fixed rule. Setting, colors, emotions, and a lot of other factors determine the aesthetic of the art. In your case, I am using medium lighting. I want to bring out some three-dimensionality, and the contrast of light and dark is achieving that purpose."
More questions follow, more answers are given. I like this dynamic. Having someone interested in my hobbies is a little embarrassing but sweet. Especially a hobby such as this. With artificial intelligence and online apps becoming the new platforms for artists, the act of physically holding a paintbrush or pencil is becoming more antiquated. No offense to digital artists, but there is something calming about creating art traditionally. I am glad that Selene can see it, too.
No. That's not quite right. I am happy that Selene possesses this trait. I haven't talked to her much about my interests. In fact, only once did I tell her that I liked to draw and ice skate. However, for my first birthday, she took me ice skating; for this one, she bought me an art kit. She remembered. If that isn't enough to fall for her harder, then I don't know what else there is.
We get so lost in conversation that I do not realize how many hours have gone by until the portrait is finished.
Stretching back, I call out, "All done. Take a look, Selene."
She arches her back before rising. I linger on that action for far longer than appropriate. Slowly saundering toward me, she stands behind me and bends down until her chin rests on my shoulder. I am all too aware of her presence.
"Wow," she whispers. "It is beautiful."
I try to imagine the masterpiece from her perspective. While I was shading, I made sure her tresses were one of the first things I finished coloring. Though her hair is a cascade of pearlescent white now, it is a monochrome gradient in the painting. Cream offset by black, grey, white, and red, the image radiates with undertones of love and forlonging. It tells a story of a woman waiting for her lover to come. A lover who left her with a carnation before saying goodbye, promising to return soon. As the days pass, she inhales the scent of the flower, remembering her lover. Hoping for the day he will come back and embrace her. I can envision myself as this obscure lover, especially when the indigo of the lapis lazuli rests on her chest.
My first effort at painting after a long time. I'm pleased with the results. "It is an amazing painting."
Selene hugs me from behind. Arms wrapping around the backrest of the chair to my front, she holds me close. Then a kiss to the cheek. "Yes. And you are an amazing artist, Shouto."
"And you make a wonderful model," I return with a kiss to the palm of her hand.
She insists on helping me clean up. She tells me that she has some red velvet cake in the fridge in her room and wants to share it with me. When we finish, I catch her taking in another whiff of the red carnation. At that, I pull her with me onto the bed. She grips my sweater with both hands as she stares down at me. I hold her waist tighter and shift her closer on my lap.
Prying the flower from her grasp, I ask innocently, "Can I get a sliver of affection that you gave the flower?"
She giggles, "Jealous of my cane. Jealous of a flower. At this rate, you will be jealous of the very necklace you gave me."
I feel the press of said necklace into my chest. "Maybe. Because I want you to look at me the way you look at those items."
"How do I look at them?" she breathes out as I run my lips along the slope of her neck.
"Like they are most exquisite beings in the universe," I murmur.
She pulls back and studies me.
To prove my point, I rub my thumb across her lips and kiss just beyond the corner of her mouth.
She gasps.
"That is how I want you to look at me."
Because that is how I look at you.