All The Colors Of You || Bang Chan

Chapter Thirty Two - Perrie

Twenty days.
More than anything it was a test. One I put myself through.
One I passed.
It was the most difficult thing I ever had to do but there was no other way I could have finished the painting on time.

And it worked!
Chan is a distraction. A massive, lovely distraction. He makes me so happy nothing else matters.
That's not good when you don't earn money by being in love.
Without him, I was able to power through my days. I could work without constantly thinking of him.

It was hard. But it was worth it.
Because the painting is done. And it's magnificent.
Because the painting is done - and so are all seventeen new pieces I need for my exhibition.
Well, except for the last three.
But Chan doesn't need to know about those. Not yet.

When I called Chan over, he arrived here within twenty minutes.
Luckily, he came here alone...
The second I laid eyes on him, I couldn't hold back anymore. I ran into his arms as he passed through the doors to my workshop. For a few minutes, we just stood with our arms around each other and our lips locked.
I was a starving woman, even if of my own accord.

"God, I missed you so much," he says between kisses and drives his hands into my hair to tilt my head back a little. "I think I went a little insane, actually."
"Me too," I answer and bite his lower lip ever so gently, "I'm sorry for disappearing like that, but it was worth it. I promise. You'll see."
I take his hand in mine and intertwine our fingers. Then I pull him towards the back of the studio where the canvas is leaning against the wall.

"Ready?"
I can't wait for his face. My heart pitter-patters against my rib cage as I get ready to reveal the painting, still covered with a light cloth.
Chan crosses his arms in front of his chest and grins, waiting.
I dance towards the painting and carefully remove the linen.

The cover falls.
And I turn just in time to catch the look on Chan's face.
His eyes widen and his entire body straightens.
As he takes a slight step back, as if the sheer size of the things imposes on him, his arms fall to either side of his body before he raises his hands to cup his own face.
"Oh, wow," he whispers with his eyes glued to the canvas.

I walk over to him and clasp my hands in front of my chest, giddy with joy and pride.
I stand next to him, balancing on my toes, as I ask, "It's good, right?"
Chan is quiet. He simply blinks as a slow grin grows on his face.
"Good?" he asks, "Perrie, this is amazing! It's gorgeous!"
He steps closer to take in the details and I almost shake with emotion as I watch him admire the countless hours of work I put into this painting.

It is possibly my best work to date.
It is everything I envisioned it to be.
The brush strokes are so smooth, it almost looks like a photograph from afar. The shadows blend together seamlessly. The proportions are perfect and realistic.
The composition is perfect, it's flawless.
There isn't a single thing I hate about this painting.

"I have to send a picture to the boys," Chan murmurs as he digs for his phone, "They're not gonna believe this."
I blush and my toes curl. Something in me blooms with every word of praise he directs towards me.
"My face looks so real. Oh, my god! And the hair? How thin are your brushes? You even did Felix' freckles?"
He turns to me with utter disbelief on his face.

"You seem so surprised," I laugh, "You didn't think I could do it?"
"I mean, I knew you were good." He pulls me close with one arm and presses a kiss against my temple. "Or at least, I had hoped you really were that good."
I slap his chest, but we're both laughing.

Then Chan looks around the room.
"Have you done anything else?"
I nod towards a stack of canvases towards the left walls of the room.
Each one is covered, wrapped and packed away.
"I already packed them away for safekeeping," I explain, "But they're completely done. Bai called a few days ago and said that I could start setting up really soon at the museum."

"Do you need any help?"
"Mentally, probably," I joke and he rolls his eyes, "But I got a few people from the Flamingo coming to help me hang all of them."
"I could help you, too," he offers but I shake my head.
"No, I want the exhibition to be a surprise for you. I want you to experience it like a real art show."

For a moment, there's that shudder again. It's small, I almost don't notice it. But something flashes through his eyes that tightens his smile for a split second.
And then it's gone and he presses his soft lips against mine.
"Okay," he whispers, "I'm proud of you."
I look up into his eyes and there's nothing but warmth.

No shudder.
No hesitation.
No darkness.
There's only him.
"Thank you," I answer and cling to him, placing my head into crook between his throat and shoulder. "That means a lot to me."