One, two, three, four, five, six... I was sure I hated math but I enjoyed counting the muscular mounds on my crush's abdomen.
"Are you liking what you're seeing?"
"Ah, yeah."
"..."
"..."
"What? Arrgh! Aren't you so full of yourself?! I'm also a man, I have what you have! Well, I don't have six-pack abs... yet. But anyways, why would I like—" I run out of excuses when I realized how flustered I was as soon as I saw Rainier Seo's body. I couldn't continue making a good cover-up story about why I was in a daze as he grabbed my hand and pulled me inside.
Like a series of chemical reactions, the part of my body which came into contact with him became hot as if all my senses were focused on the sensations of his touch. He's warm.
I thought I was being romantic, but he's really warm.
"Why are you so hot?" I couldn't help but ask.
"I still have a fever, I guess," He let me go as I sat on the comfy sofa in the living room. Then, he picked up a white shirt and wore it, depriving me of my few happiness in life.
"Is that why you didn't go to school?" my mouth asked by itself.
"Hmm. I went to City H and got a fever when I came back." He told me why he took those absences and went to the counter table and got a glass and a whole pack of orange juice. He quickly served me the refreshment and asked, "So, what made you come here?"
I sipped the orange juice and swallowed my feelings so that they wouldn't show. "About the Art project... We need to write an essay about any social issue and make an art piece that represents the whole message of the essay. I came here to tell you that."
"I could do the essay, how about you do the rest?" Rainier suggested as he sat in the chair across from me.
"I... I cannot..."
"I'm not proud of it, but if you cannot draw, I'm worse!" He was drying his hair with a damp towel while informing me of his greatest flaw.
I looked away and stared at the ceiling instead. He looked so cool in his casual clothes as well. And what's with that towel? How would it feel if I was the one drying him...
Somehow, I felt like I was having a fever too.
"Sky?"
"Ahh... I'll look at my previous drawings then. If I can find anything, just make an essay out of it." I hurriedly drank the remaining juice and left. I quickly run down the stairs to match the pace of my adrenaline. I was barely breathing just fine when I got into a cab.
At that time I realized why I have a huge crush on Rainier Seo... whether he was kind or cocky, what matters to me was his face! What did I expect from love at first sight? Of course, I'd be attracted to what I could see— his handsome face! I spent a lot of days agonizing if the kindness he showed me at the time we met at the club was fake, but at the end of the day whatever his character was would not matter because I'd still like him over and over again because he's inexplicably handsome!
How shallow could I be?
"Are you okay?" the driver asked while watching my denouement from the rearview mirror.
"I'm crazy," I responded. The driver was very uncomfortable with me but at that time that was the only word, I could describe my state of being.
...
I went home and went straight to my room. As promised, I looked for my old drawings or anything I made over the past years. But I turned the house upside down and all I could see were empty primed canvasses, new sketchbooks, and unused art materials.
I was preoccupied with searching when my phone vibrated. It was a text from Rainier Seo.
010-123X-456X: Thankfully you could draw. I'm terrible at drawing T.T
Then he sent a picture of what seems like a serial killer's ominous childhood drawing.
010-123X-456X: This is my drawing of you outside my house. lol.
My whole impression of him collapsed. I thought it was a picture of a serial killer stalking his target, but it turned out to be me. Is that how he sees me?
"What happened?!" My dad's angry voice rang at the back of my head. I couldn't blame him. He has OCD and now I trashed the whole house.
"Where's my old drawings? Did we not bring them here when we moved?" I asked.
He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "You burned them inside the studio, did you forget?"
"Oh." I stood and began cleaning up. It was awkward that I completely forgot one of the other reasons why I had to transfer schools. The art studio was my dad's mistress's family property and I burned it along with every piece I made. Pity, the fire was discovered earlier, so it didn't completely burn the building. With arson on my record, they couldn't keep me there.
...
With that, I had no choice but to pick up my pencils and try to make something. I sat on the chair and laid my things on the drawing table. I readjusted it to my height and racked my brain to conceptualize something.
Result—nothing.
I looked up the internet, searched for ideas, watched tutorials... But it felt like everything I did to be at a certain level was all for nothing. I didn't want to copy whatever was in front of me. But I forgot how to do things the same way I did before.
I did try to draw some circles, outline them to make proportions, and sketch some lines here and there.
Oh shit. It looked like the silhouette of topless Rainier Seo... but it was so ugly it could never be compared to Rainier!
So, I crumpled the expensive watercolor paper and took another one... only to draw another piece of shit that deserved to be burned in the fiery pits of hell!
I got tired of drawing so I lay on my bed instead to rest. I looked at my phone and saw another string of texts from the devil himself.
010-123X-456X: Can I see some of your drawings?
010-123X-456X: You probably need help choosing, right? Can I help you pick which should we pass?
010-123X-456X: I'm kinda excited to see what you have drawn!
I wanted to be honest with him and tell him the truth. 'I'm sorry, you don't have to help me pick because there's nothing to choose from!'
I did not tell him that. I did say it to Cig though, even though no one's really going to read it.
...
Because I was trying my best to give a better impression to Rainier Seo, I took it upon myself to draw not just one but at least five pieces for him to choose from. I spent my whole weekend inside my room drawing. My mom occasionally nagged but dad would always stop her.
When I was drained and could no longer think of anything to draw, I took pictures of the good ones and send them to Rainier's number.
I texted: "Hello. Please pick any of them."
I waited for his response, but he did not text back.
...
After being ignored, I saw him again at school. He was held back at the teachers' office and got a lecture to minimize his absences and to congratulate him for winning the quiz bowl held in City H. There were banners all over the school commending Rainier, and his face was all over the place, so there's no way I could stop thinking about him either.
During self-study, he finally returned to the classroom and nonchalantly smiled at every compliment he got from our classmates. As soon as he sits down, he took advantage of the lack of a teacher in the room and casually chatted with me.
"Hey," his playful sexy voice emanated as he tapped my shoulder.
I stopped pretending to read and looked at him without directly looking into his eyes. "Hi," I awkwardly replied.
He took his phone out and showed it to me. He opened our conversations and clicked the first picture I sent him. He then closely sat next to me, our arms touching each other. I could smell the faint cigarette smell on him as well as the sweet cologne he wore to hide the fact that he smoked. Honestly, his smell makes me dizzy. But I'm more sensitive to the physical contact I'm getting from him.
Then he turned and looked at me, "What is this supposed to stand for?"
I reflexively turned my head toward him. His face was so close, so I immediately focused my sight on the thing I drew instead to avert my gaze. It was a portrait of a tall and thin woman, the outfit was sexy, she had high heels, and she posed like a model.
"Aren't we supposed to make essays and art based on a social issue?" He whispered as we were just by each other's side. Hearing it makes my ear tingle. Then, he critiqued, "This looks pretty, but it doesn't seem to represent something with value."
Remembering how hard I worked to come up with something only to hear this made me snap.
"Why don't you think outside the box and make this mean something like unrealistic beauty standards?"
He clicked his tongue and rebutted, "I did think of that, but this looks like a fashion design sketch rather than an artistic statement about that beauty standard."
"If you're not satisfied with it, then pick another." I took the initiative to slide the phone screen to the next picture.
"This drawing of the cityscape is amazing. I'll give that to you but, I don't see a story even after looking at it," he shared. Even with how close we are, I feel like we're not on the same dimension at all.
"You're supposed to make an essay, not a novel. Why don't you use your storytelling shenanigans and relate this to urbanization, globalization, or societal hierarchy perhaps?"
He looked at me with dead eyes. "Those topics are just as vague as your cityscape."
"Vague?" Does he even know hard it was to draw buildings? My blood was boiling, so I swiped his phone for another picture. "Then why don't you pick something more specific? I sent quite a lot, right? Pick another draw—"
It was my sketch of him. He was topless, and I gave a lot of emphasis on his muscles, his V-line, and his fresh sexy face.
"So, this is how you see me..." He chuckled.
I buried my head in my desk while hearing his broken engine laugh. I could die of embarrassment right now. If I go missing one day, please arrest this man.