“You have something on your face” cont. ft. @jichulxmg
If it was one thing Belle and Luke had in common, it was their aspirations toward art – and the maintenance of a semi-organized studio (though in the eyes of other’s it was more than abit messy, the siblings liked to call it: organized chaos). Both had larger studios outside of their apartment, but also a work-space the size of a master bedroom within the apartment too. While belle’s studio held mostly large canvases and buckets upon buckets of paint (and a small dark-room), Luke’s held two potter’s wheel, an small-walk in fridge the size of a closet that held various sizes of glass jars containing an assortment of clay, other tools spooled about used for sculpting or carpeting, and only a few canvases with an assortment of acrylic or water color tubes. Yet, the biggest difference, was that few stepped within his studio – only a few eyes had graced the unfinished pieces and disheveled mess of the room.
Only Luke had left the door propped open, the small whirring of the potter’s wheel a silent hum escaping the room’s confines, bringing the other to unexpectedly drop by. He’d asked dahui to look after Max and Snow for the afternoon – partially because he’d wanted to see her again (though he’d used his beloved canines as a cover) and partially because he’d wanted a few hours to himself undisturbed. The other’s voice broke through the soft sound of music playing within the room and his trance as the wheel came to a slow stop, fingers laden with clay as he looked up. Scrunching up his noise, he questioned, “really? where?” Hazel orbs looked up at her, a child-like grin appearing as he tilted his head. “mind wiping it off for me? – otherwise I might become a clay-laden-mummy.”
The words slipped out before she could contain them, silken and fond. She hadn’t intended to make her presence known, but as an introvert she often mistook spoken words for rogue thoughts and vice versa.
Being a dog sitter was incredible fun, especially when the animals in question were her true loves (to be honest, she was yet to find an animal she didn’t wholeheartedly adore): Snow and Max. The only con she could think of was that the two dogs liked to sleep after excessive work and she couldn’t blame them because she was the same. They eventually curled up together at her feet as she read and she was left to find her own entertainment. Usually Belle would keep her company and, although it was nice to watch Snow’s chest rise and fall and Max’s tongue loll out of his mouth, Dahui felt slightly emptier without her friend. The apartment was as massive as they came but Dahui had adjusted to it overtime. She didn’t feel so small in it anymore: she appreciated the windows instead of cowering at the view; instead of sitting upright on the couch she lounged barefoot in it; and she allowed herself to get fully immersed in french romance novels in the Didonato home like no-one was watching. Belle’s studio alone was the size of Dahui’s own homely apartment yet twice as congested, which never ceased to amaze the optimistic artist. Poor Dahui always got lost on the occasions that she came over, moving around and discovering rooms she swore she hadn’t seen before on her escapades to the bathroom. Luke’s work space was a new discovery, her feet led her to him.
He made it easy to intrude, he made her feel too welcome. She floated over into his private bubble, bent over slightly, and carefully rubbed at his skin with her thumb. Subconsciously, the rest of her fingers gently rested on his cheek and her dilated pupils fixated on the fading grey blob. “There.”