All The Colors Of You || Bang Chan

Chapter Thirty - Perrie

A bottle of champagne on ice. French toast with strawberries and vanilla ice cream. Creme brûlée, perfectly flambéed.

We eat in bed like a couple of new money aristocrats. The TV is on, but we're only halfway listening.

"This is what Paris Hilton must feel like on a daily basis," I say as I spoon another piece of the French toast into my mouth, "You know, because her father owns those hotels."

Next to me, Chan chuckles.
I gab after my glass and take a sip from the champagne.
"Thank you," I say then and search for Chan's eyes.
He scrunches his eyebrows together for a moment, asking, "What for?"

I sit up straighter and motion around the room. "For all this. You take care of me so well, Chan. I don't know how to thank you."
"Ah, no, babe," he answers ad pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear, "This was a surprise for you. You're not supposed to pay me back."
"I want to, though," I say and let my eyes travel over his body, suggestively, "And I have an idea how-... If you'd like."

His eyes flutter and for a moment, he hesitates. And then he takes my hand and sighs, "I am so sorry," he says, "But I am so tired. And I don't want you to think that I don't want to, because I really do."

He swallows thickly, letting his eyes catch on my exposed shoulder.
"I really, really want you," he adds, "But I'm just so tired and I promise you, it has nothing to do with you."

I scoot closer and grab his hands, that he had been moving around through the air, and wait until he meets my eyes.
"It's okay," I say as gently as possible, "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. You don't ever have to explain yourself for not wanting to sleep with me."

"I just-..." Chan glances away and shrugs sheepishly. "I don't know."
"Hey," I scoot closer until I can put my hands on his cheeks and wipe my thumbs over his cheeks, "You don't want to have sex right now. That's totally okay. It's not a big deal. I promise you, I am not mad or anything like that. Can I do something else to make you feel good?"

His shoulders lose tension right away and he leans into my touch, relieved.
"Actually, can you just hold me?"
"Of course, baby," I say and clean the food off the bed.

I scoot towards the head of the bed and pull back the covers for us to hide beneath. Chan places his head on my legs. His breath brushes over my bare skin and my fingers find their way into his hair. I stroke his head for a while as were both quiet, before my hand travels down over his shoulders. I trace the curve of his shoulder blades and watch his body relax under my touch.

For a moment, he is hanging after his thoughts. Then he asks, "Can you tell me about the future?"
I halt for a second, perplexed.
"What?"
"Like, when you imagine your future," he starts and turns until he can look at me and my hand pushes the hair out of his face, "Where are you? What do you do?"

I think for a moment.
"I'm in a little house by the sea," I say and grin, "And I have a dog. I sell paintings on the local market."
"Am I there?" He holds my stare tentatively.
My smile turns gentle.
"Do you want to be?" I ask back.
Chan nods and presses his lips together.

His eyes travel over my face and, for a moment, there is something in his eyes I can't quite place. It's almost as if he's closing the door to a part of his thoughts and the way his eyebrows knit together ever so slightly makes me nervous suddenly.
"What is it?"
He sighs, dragging his eyes away from mine and changes position again.

This time he turns over on his stomach and wraps his arms around my hips like I'm a pillow.
"I think I want to introduce you to my mom," he says finally. "She'd like you."
Heat creeps into my cheeks.
My voice is soft when I answer, "I'd love that."

I start drawing aimless shapes on his skin and add, "Can you tell me about the future?"
He chuckles and his breath runs over my skin.
"I'm in a little house by the sea?"
His voice is teasing, and when I shove him
gently he presses a kiss to my thigh.
"If I'm being serious that actually sounds perfect," he says then, "Maybe on a nice island, where it's really warm and sunny. And all the boys will have their own houses right next door."

I can almost see it. Him and I, sharing a cup of coffee, sitting on a swing set.
My legs in his lap. His hand in mine.
The smell of salt water and sunscreen.
Maybe he's singing to me as I fall asleep.

And then I remember his real life.
The millions of fans just outside these four walls. The management.
The rules and regulations.
Suddenly tears prick my eyes and I'm glad he's not looking at me.

Because the truth is: We come from two different worlds.

But when he shifts, he presses a kiss onto my skin another time. And he is warm against my body like nothing else in this world. And every time I just think about him, my heart skips a bit.

So instead of thinking of all the reasons why we can't ever be together like we should be, I say, "Maybe we have a hammock between two palm trees. And a bunch of ice cream in the freezer."
And as he goes on about what else we'll have in our house by the sea, I push all the bad thoughts away. I choose ignorance and pray the bliss takes over quickly.