The Art of Feeling Small Pt. 7: Perylene Red

Ezra slumped back like he'd lost his footing sitting down. He propped his elbows on his knees, lowered his head into his hands, and muttered something I couldn't hear. His fingers combed through his hair despite his earlier attempt to tame it.

"What?"

"I said--" Ezra raised his voice enough to punch. He took a moment, took a breath, before he finished at a more appropriate volume. "I said 'fuck,' Alexander, because why...why?"

"I remember all of your oil colors," I blurted.

Ezra raised his head. It was his turn to ask, "What?"

I gave myself more time to think before speaking again. "I saw that you won. I couldn't not come. I didn't plan to-- interrupt, or say anything, at least not until after, but you--"

"That's not what I meant," Ezra murmured. "I wasn't asking you."

Like we were passing it back and forth, I said, "What?"

"I'm not asking why you're here." He sounded nothing like himself. He was right in front of me, and I still missed him. "Why am I..." He twisted his hand in the front of his shirt. "I'm relieved to hear your voice."

His shirt would wrinkle if he kept it up. He seemed to realize it, because he ripped his hand away and folded it into the other, tucking both against his lap. "Everyone in there-- I thought I was ready for this. I applied, didn't I? I worked hard and I finally made something real and I applied and I won."

He buried his clasped hands between his legs.

"They're all looking at my work, and I don't know what anyone's thinking. They're so quiet. I don't know who to face, or where to move, or what's happening around me, and no one has said anything bad but what if they're all-- what if everyone's laughing at me, the poor little blind kid who won the contest out of pity--"

At once I was looking up at him, crouched on the floor. "There wasn't a single person in that gallery laughing at you," I said, resolute. "I mean it. You told me you're good with mental images, so try work some admiration, and wonder, and pride, and surprise into that picture. I can't tell you what anyone thought walking in, but I can assure you, no one has left your exhibit thinking it was a pity win."

Ezra flexed and clenched his fingers. From here, I could see the way they trembled. I ached to take them between my own. It was cold out.

"I can't go back in there."

"You don't have to."

"I do."

"Not right now. You've already done your part. Take a breather."

Ezra took the advice literally. He sucked a deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth, then another, until he started to look steadier.

"I want this so bad," he whispered.

I reminded him, "It's already yours."

Another deep breath. "Yeah."

When his hands stopped shaking altogether, I figured it was my cue to leave.

Ezra groaned, mostly to himself, "God, I'm pathetic."

I sat right back down. "You're not--"

"You broke my heart," he said. Hard, but without the heat in his voice like the last time. Tired, as if he'd played back all the ways I'd hurt him so many times that he didn't have the energy to be angry. "And I'm crying to you like I've forgotten. That's pathetic."

I had the stupid thought, you aren't crying, right before a wet line broke past the frames of his sunglasses.

"Do you know what's pathetic?" I said. "Sitting beneath the entire solar system and seeing payne's gray."

Ezra's next breath hiccuped. He swiped at his cheek and sat up straight. "I need to apologize. For entering paintings of you without your permission. I should've asked."

"They're incredible. I'm so glad I got to see them."

"Did I get your face okay?"

"You got real close."

"You're not mad?"

"What, that the nose isn't right?"

Ezra's laugh was hardly an exhale, but it sounded genuine. He didn't seem so uneven, now. My chest swelled with the thought that I had done the right thing. Somehow, in all of this, I'd helped.

"I insulted you."

"It's not a bad nose, really."

"With the paintings, and the story they tell," Ezra clarified, even though he knew that I knew.

"They don't say anything that isn't true. But-- the one with the telescope. It's..." Too nice, too pretty. "I don't deserve it."

Leaning back, Ezra nodded, head tipped against the bars. "I know. It was the first one. I was so angry, painting it, but I thought I'd lose my mind if I didn't put you on canvas. If it came out gorgeous, that's just you. I wanted to ruin it. I couldn't."

Ezra swallowed, and I followed the line of it.

"You are so frustrating to paint. It'll never come out the way it should. The shape you take, and the way I feel...there's no way to do it justice. I could capture you on camera and I still don't think it would be right. Like taking a picture of the sunrise, or the stars."

"Stop," I said. "Don't--"

"Don't embarrass myself?" This time, he really did smile. But he cried, too. A small self-deprecating upturn of his lips and shiny tracks down his cheeks. I didn't know where I'd misstepped, but I cursed myself. "What's the point? You already saw the painting. Nothing I can say will be more incriminating than that."

"Don't talk about me like I'm a work of art before I've even gotten the chance to tell you how I feel."

Ezra's laugh was cold and dry, rooted in place. "You are not a work of art, Alexander, you transcend art." He stood, pulling off his shades to pat at his cheeks. "Thank you for coming. I don't know why you did, but I need to get back."

"Wait." I took his wrist on instinct. We both winced. I let go immediately, and Ezra started for the door like there had been no interruption. "Ezra--"

He whipped around and snapped, "You've already told me how you feel." His eyes were red-rimmed and the prettiest I'd ever seen. "You're being cruel."

When I stood, we weren't two feet apart. My breath caught in my chest, but I found it. "I haven't told you anything."

"No?" Another awful laugh.

"No. I haven't told you that I dream of your hands covered in paint, or that the wine we drank together stained your mouth red and it destroyed me. Saturn is a boring, ugly yellow-brown, but I picture it in cadmium green now because it reminds me of your eyes, and that's-- it's-- senseless. You are the one thing in my life that I can't force to make sense, and I'm so in love with you I don't know what to do with myself. I think I might actually be going insane, because I had a conversation with the stars about it--"

It wasn't until Ezra's expression dropped that I heard my own voice on playback. It felt for a moment like a stand-off for who could be more shocked. It wasn't much of a contest. The feeling, now that I'd put it out there, was familiar. This was just another truth that I had forcibly passed over. I'd already admitted it in other words. Carelessly, to Ezra's face. Right before I let him down.

I think 'I see you' can be just as powerful as 'I love you.'

And I had said it without hesitation. God, I'd been so close.

"I'm sorry," I said now. "I'm sorry you had to be the first to notice that my pulse picks up whenever I'm around you, okay, I'm an idiot. I'm scared of change, and I'm scared of anything I can't make sense of. I'm trying to fix that."

Ezra ducked his head. "Are you messing with me?"

"No," I said, stricken. I stepped forward. "The fact that you even think-- no, I'm not messing with you. I'm stupid in love with you."

It felt like forever before Ezra spoke.

"Heavy on the 'stupid.'"

I couldn't see his face, not really, but I had long since learned the sound of his smile.

Relief, like a sudden rainfall -- that he was teasing, that he'd stopped wiping his cheeks. It was too soon to laugh, but one rose in my chest anyway, timid and grateful.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Listen, I know I messed this up, and it's not something I can fix with a few words, or-- at all, if you don't want. But--" I stammered when Ezra's forehead bumped against my sternum. "But, um..." Train of thought lost, never to be found again.

Ezra gave a watery laugh.

I raised a hand to his arm, brushing over his elbow. "I'll take whatever I can get. I still can't see that sky of yours, but there's more color when you're around. I don't know how to pay you back for that. I don't know if I can. If you don't want to see me, that's. I get that. I'll wait as long as you need to for the chance to try."

Ezra searched until his hand found my cheek.

"Haven't I waited long enough?"

The gentle urge behind his touch was all it took. I marveled at his patience, because I hadn't been waiting nearly as long, and suddenly I thought I might crumple -- not onto my knees, but inward, a star collapsing into a black hole -- if I waited another second. My hand at his elbow clenched in his sleeve, just enough of a pull to bring him where I needed him. He fell against me with a surprised noise that got muffled between our lips and melted into a sigh.

Colors burst behind my eyelids. Ezra's lips were disastrously soft. His walking stick clattered somewhere beneath us and then both of his hands were on me, cradling my face, pulling me in until we were as close as we could get. Every breath in brought warm earth, fresh air, and cologne. His thumbs glided over my cheekbones, from the sides of my nose to the corners of my eyes. His palms traced the line of my jaw. He mapped out my face.

I raised one hand to his waist, devastated by how perfectly it fit into the dip. The other slid along his neck and finally, finally, back into his hair.

Kissing Ezra was perylene red. He kissed like he spoke, demanding and deep, with easy confidence and every ounce of his attention. As if not one second could be wasted. As if it mattered.

Orchestral music blared. I thought it was in my head until I felt the vibration of Ezra's phone where my hand had fallen to his hip. I held back a tortured groan as he pulled away. Ezra shivered as if a bubble had burst around us and let in the chilly breeze. I didn't let him go far, folding my arms around him.

"Hey hey," he said into the phone, breathless. He was almost immediately drowned out. I bit down a laugh as Kayla ranted on the other end. "Oh-- oh...Yeah, I'm here, I just stepped out for a breather...No-- well, yes, but I'm okay now...Yes, really...No, no, I'll come to you...I know, I know..." He blushed. "Mind your business!"

The smile in his voice was loud, and now I could see it, too. I leaned down the second he hung up, committing the feel of it to memory.

I worked on his hair when we parted, fixing the mess we'd both made, and bent down for his walking stick. He smacked my shin lightly with it, a little vengeful. I figured I deserved that.

"Talked to the stars, huh?" Ezra teased. He grinned at me, chest to chest. "That was so lame."

"I meant that literally," I said without shame. He gave a helpless sort of laugh as he put some distance between us.

Inside the gallery, Kayla was hard to miss in a pink pantsuit with glittering charms in her hair. She beamed when she saw Ezra. A little less when she saw me.

I gave Ezra a nudge in the right direction. It was just a tap on his elbow, but I could feel her scrutinizing the interaction from across the room.

"Ezra," she gushed when we met in the middle. "I am going to filet you for keeping this from me."

"Not here, please," said Ezra, sinking happily into her hug.

"Your exhibit is insane! It's-- gah, and you did so-- ugh!"

"Mm, yeah."

Kayla gave a bright laugh. Her eyes met mine over Ezra's shoulder as she released him.

"I'm still mad at you. But thank you for texting me."

Ezra made a noise of betrayal.

"So..." She gestured between the two of us, wiggling her fingers like she had some witchy sixth sense.

"I said mind your business!"

"Fine, fine," Kayla sang, turning around with a flourish, taking Ezra's hand in hers and leaning in to loudly whisper, "Later." She sent a warning look over her shoulder and rolled her eyes when I winked in return. "Let's look around, baby."

"I'll try my best."

I watched them from behind. A laugh bubbled in my chest, seemingly from nowhere. Kayla oohed at the sculpture of Narcissus, letting go of Ezra to get a closer look, and I slipped my hand into his. He jumped a little, then smiled, so lovely it was dizzying. When Kayla turned around and saw how quickly I had taken her place, she put her hands on her hips and let out an exasperated huff.

After the gallery crowd had waned and we made our way out; after we walked far enough down the sidewalk and Ezra threw his hands up with a victorious yell; after Kayla parted ways because she had a "clarinet lesson" (at 9 PM?), we climbed into my car. I drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tangled up in Ezra's, to the Whitman campus.

I lay on my back on the hill that I had childishly started to think of as ours. Ezra took his time reacquainting himself with my face, gliding his fingers along the curves and pushing into the dips just like last time. Except this time he was leaning over me, one leg on either side of my torso. And this time I didn't close my eyes, enchanted by kissed-red lips and disheveled hair.

Ezra had told me in the car that I was on a probationary period. I had thanked him copiously for the opportunity until he was whining for me to shut up.

If this was probation, I wasn't sure I would survive full Boyfriend Experience.

Ezra's fingers reached my mouth and his ministrations stopped. His thumb on my bottom lip tugged downward so he could slot his mouth over mine. I opened up for him, welcoming, maybe pleading, and his approving hum set off sparklers down my spine. It was the same sound he often made when he talked. If he kept doing it when he was like this, sinking lower on top of me, dragging his tongue along mine, I was going to have to do some serious compartmentalizing. Or just suffer this heat pooling in my gut every time he spoke.

"I'm having terrible thoughts," I confessed. "Really, just, the worst."

"Oh, no. They're going to arrest you."

"They'll have to. For public safety."

"They'll take me, too," Ezra said solemnly. "All I'm thinking right now is that I've got a pretty good idea of your face, but, um." He seemed to get distracted for a moment as he ran his hands up my torso, abdomen to chest. He cleared his throat. "Lots left to see. I'm trying not to be too handsy."

"You can be handsy," I said immediately, then flushed all the way down to my chest. Ezra could probably feel it, considering he was in no rush to move his hands.

"Don't encourage me. We're on a public campus. They'll really lock us up."

"You're kind of, like, already sitting on top of me, though."

"Yeah," Ezra sighed. He didn't move to get off.

"My roommate won't be back until Wednesday, at the earliest."

"Forward, Alexander!" It was alarming how much I liked the deep curl to his voice when he made fun of me. "Aren't you nervous?"

Of course I was. Intensely. But Ezra was the most attentive person I'd ever met, and the most honest. He knew how to handle something fragile -- when to guide rather than tease. When to tease to lighten the air. I could leave myself in his hands and know I would be taken care of. I felt more eager than afraid.

"I trust you," I said to sum it all up. I wanted to take care of him, too. I wanted to make him feel good.

Ezra's smile wobbled fondly. Quietly, he admitted, "I'm nervous."

"That can't be true."

"What if you don't like it?"

"I really don't think you have to worry about that."

Ezra seemed satisfied, like he trusted me, too, even after everything. He settled back down to press a kiss beneath my ear. It was a sweet, light thing. My body burned anyway.

"I, ah..." Another peck, this time in the crook of my jaw, disrupted my feeble attempt to get my thoughts in order. "I spoke to an advisor."

Ezra paused his assault with his lips at my neck. He hummed. Innocent. Questioning. Right up against my jugular. It was already happening. This was my life now, doomed to cross my legs any time he made that thoughtful little rasp in the back of his throat.

When I didn't say anything, he eased off, sitting upright. I could think again.

"I think I might," I said, hands gliding absently up his thighs, "I will change my major. To astronomy."

The smile that spread slowly over his face had me digging my fingers into his hips. Too much, it was all too much.

"That's great," he said.

"It screws with my timeline. I'll need to go to grad school, and..."

"Do you feel good about it?"

"I'm scared."

Ezra nodded. "That'll happen. Is there a 'but'?"

"But I'm," I sighed, "so excited."

More eager than afraid.

Ezra's hand found one of mine, sliding our fingers together.

"Going to run your planetarium?" he asked, sweet as honey.

"I want to be the kid in the painting."

"You already are, silly."

"Then I want to remember. I want to see it the way he did. The way you do."

"And I'd like to know the stars the way you do. Guess we both have plenty to learn." He spaced out for a second, thoughtful, even as he undid the top button of my shirt just to trace one finger over my collarbone. "You know, it...felt so good. To make something again. Heartbreak and all. Thank you."

"Do I inspire you?" I asked, smile cheeky.

He had avoided this question the last time. He didn't hesitate now. "You do. Immensely. And I am stupid in love with you, too."

He leaned down and kissed me before I had time to react. My eyes weren't even open, but I thought I got a glimpse of it, the nonsensical night sky: What did you expect?

"Lighter on the 'stupid,'" I muttered against his lips. He laughed, and I let it carry me away. No wonder I had been so tired, fighting the current all this time. It was much easier to float. I could lie facing the sky that way. And I could breathe.

fin