Cardinal red bled into cerulean blue with a breathtaking sweep, glimmers of gold peeking through the clouds of ashes as figures posed in different degrees of horror, the moment suspended in time forever. Your eyes carefully inspected the painting, drinking in every bold stroke of paint, admiring the adroit painter's creation.
A soft hum hung in the air as people milled about, loud flashes of cameras going off near the entrance, as wealthy patrons of the arts entered the exhibition, all dressed to the nines.
You were in a quieter corner of the building, taking your time to admire the more ignored paintings that hung on the stark white walls. You dabbled in painting yourself but were never satisfied with the outcomes. The flaws never escaped your eyes, sticking out unpleasantly.
A waft of aromatic woody scent, with hints of citrus notes, entered your nose and as you heard sharp footsteps growing louder, your heart stilled.
That cologne...
"What a surprise, miss Y/n. I didn't expect to see you here, of all places."
The clear voice rang out. The crispness it beheld could only belong to one person. Without moving your eyes from the painting you replied,
"...Neither did I, Mr. Ciro."
"I am rather fond of Azan Erkom's work. I intend to buy a few of his works in the upcoming auction."
"I see.", you gritted the words out, a look of disinterest in your face.
You had come here to relax for the evening. And you weren't about to let Orien ruin it for you. With quiet steps you moved to the other side of the room, admiring another piece of work. Your blood boiled when you felt his presence next to you again.
What was he, a lost puppy?!
You discreetly observed him from the corner of your eye. Orien was dressed in a snow-white shirt with silver stripes, the sleeves of which were neatly folded at the elbows, and black dress pants and equally black, and impossibly shiny, shoes. His bright blond hair was tousled effortlessly, resembling the Apollo who was staring back at you from the current painting.
Your little action seemed to not have gone unnoticed by his keen gaze, as he returned a beguiling smile, white teeth glinting under the warm golden light of the building.
You immediately shifted your eyes, willing yourself to get lost in the oil painting, and forget the man's existence.
Those smiles would not work this time.
For the next half an hour, Orien followed you around, acting so naturally, as if you two were friends spending an evening together. He tried conversing with you, remarking about this work or that painter, but you only gave short, unenthusiastic replies, cursing inside at his persistence despite your obvious dislike for the man. Why couldn't he just leave you in peace?
Surely he knew about the press that was present. Two former fiances at the same place? You could practically see the bold headlines of those papers. The party you had attended previously was an exclusive, private gathering which ensured the reporters stayed out, but this event was a public one.
Thinking more about this, you cut your visit short, promptly rejecting Orien's dinner invitation before you headed out.
~
You were frustrated. It didn't matter where it was, what it was, but Orien Ciro, that accursed man, kept seeking you out with the persistence of a mosquito.
Dinner and business parties you were forced to attend, smaller gatherings for socialites, hell, even the times you went to parks and museums on your own, that blonde was ever-present, like a shadow that never seemed to leave you.
You had to give him props where it was due. Despite your constant disinterest, he carried on conversations, always asking you question after question, always wanting to know more about you.
It all came to a head when he had somehow found you on the sunny streets of a country on the other side of the planet. Apparently, he too was on a vacation at the same time as you, on the same island that you knew most of the wealthy never visited.
He booked a room at the same hotel as you, just across the beige carpeted hallway.
Anger and paranoia rumbled and twisted in your stomach. Was he really that hell-bent on making you miserable?
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you are stalking me."
The golden-haired man laughed as his lithe fingers fingered the rim of his glass of orange juice.
The breakfast room was nearly empty, save for a lone old man munching on a toast a few tables away from you two.
After a moment, Orien remarked cryptically, "Fate works in mysterious ways, Y/n."
With a barely suppressed sigh, you turned to look out of the window to admire the picturesque cobbled street outside, to distract yourself from feeling your heart quiver every time Orien said your name so familiarly. The warm, gentle sunlight that filtered through the windows made you feel a little better.
"Where will you go today?"
You shrugged, still lost in the sights of the eclectic street outside.
"Let's go explore the marketplace, then."
"I don't remember agreeing to spend my vacation with you, Mr. Ciro."
"How many times must I remind you? Call me Orien. My old man is still Mr. Ciro."
You huffed before saying, "Good day to you, Mr. Ciro Junior. I must get going now."
Orien's lips twitched into a small smile before quickly grabbing hold of your wrist as you attempted to walk past him.
You visibly flinched, swiftly snatching your hand out of his reach. As you looked down, you saw him look taken aback, and a flash of sadness and disappointment lingered on his usually unreadable countenance for a moment.
Raising a brow at him, you waited for the man to speak.
"Please, let me join you, Y/n."
His amethyst eyes sparkled almost innocently, hope lingering in their violet depths.
You looked away.
"Tch, whatever."
What he said was not a question but a statement. So it didn't matter what your reply was, that sly bastard would follow you either way.
As soon as you resumed walking, Orien followed, hot on your trail.
For the rest of the afternoon you roamed around the busy marketplace, owners of stalls yelled out prices and offers while buyers wove their way around the narrow streets as they busily bargained and bought their desired products and items.
Smells of freshly made bread mixed in with the scents of spices and dried fish, giving the air a unique fragrance. Orien followed you around like a lost puppy, recklessly buying anything that had your eyes on them for a little too long, no matter how absurd.
After a light lunch at one of the many open-air eateries, both of you walked around the beach, waiting to take a glimpse of the phenomenal sunsets that each evening brought to the island.
Cool sea breeze whistled in your ears as you tried in desperation to keep your hair out of your face, which was being wildly blown in different directions with each turn of your head. You felt Orien watching you, amusement in his smiling features, clearly enjoying your discomfort. Bastard.
You didn't know what came over him when he suddenly, gently grabbed hold of your flailing hair from behind, before bringing the rest of the flying strands together, cool, soft fingers combing through your hair slowly. You stiffened up, before tentatively allowing yourself to relax a little, begrudgingly admitting to yourself that you found his gentle touches quite soothing.
Orien has been more romantic in these few days than he had ever been in your ten years of marriage. The thought sobered you up, inhibiting your descent into complete relaxation as you composed yourself, ready to speak when you felt your hair being tugged. After a bewildered second, you realized that the blond man was in fact braiding your hair.
You suddenly felt grateful for the roaring wind and the crashing aqua waves, for they masked up the awkward silence you would've otherwise had to endure. Once he was done, you looked at your braided hair and noticed a black ribbon tied neatly into a flowery bow at the end of the braid. It was the same ribbon that was tied around Orien's white dress shirt's collar just a moment ago. Who knew he had such a nimble pair of hands?
Not knowing what to say, you muttered a quick 'thanks' before looking away from his unflinching stare.
"Y/n..."
Even with all the noise, your ears picked up on his soft utterance of your name. You didn't like it one bit, just like how you didn't like his burning stare.
In one moment, you felt his cool, slim fingers wrapped around your wrist, in another moment, he held up your face with his other hand, mysterious mauve eyes, that resembled the evening sky above, staring back at you with a frightening intensity.
Breathes mingled as his rosy lips neared closer... and closer to your face. Just as he was about to close the distance, you pushed him off, shaking yourself awake from the brief, unnerving stupor you fell into.
Composing yourself, you left without a glance at the silent man, ignoring his dejected demeanor and unsaid words that rested at the tip of his tongue, yearning to be heard.