Colors of love

Jun doesn’t like holidays, especially public ones. He doesn’t like the bustle on the town streets, when it’s impossible to get through the crowd. On such days, Jun prefers to stay at home, closing all the windows tightly, and enjoy the silence all alone. But this day was not one of those ones. Town Day is a holiday when every self-respecting townsman goes to the square to listen to a concert of national artists, to eat a hot-dog or a cotton candy while fending off pesky wasps, and to ride attractions. Of course, in big cities such festivities are more grandiose and many times larger, but Jun is a provincial. A provincial with a very stubborn mother who refused to go to the celebration without him. So here he is, in a beautiful blue shirt, standing in queue for ice cream while his mother and her friends are dancing near the stage, completely forgetting about her son. Jun looks around the square, decorated with garlands and flags, looking at the stalls and the fair along the main road. People around are talking, laughing and dancing. Children running with balloons along the blocked road and all of them have brightly colored drawings on their faces. Boys have a spiderman or batman masks, girls have unicorns and flowers. Here’s another little boy running up to the artist’s table and asking to draw a dragon on his left cheek. The guy, smeared in multicolored paints, smiles cheerfully at him and nods. The boy plops down on a chair and freezes, letting the master do his work without any trouble. The young man straightens his hair, the red strands falling down his thin neck, then his glasses, which have slipped down to the tip of his nose, and picks up the brush with long fingers. Jun watches the artist’s hand move gracefully, leaving soft strokes of blue paint on the boy’s chubby cheek. He outlines the dragon’s writhing body, the long tail with the triangular tip, and dips the brush into the green paint. He draws the belly and other details, giving the drawing volume. When the guy finishes, carefully puts the tool on the stand and gives the boy a small mirror. The child glows with happiness, looks at the blue-green dragon on his face and thanks the artist. “Have a seat,” the guy looks over at Jun as the boy hops off to his mother. And Jun only now realizes that he’d gotten out of line while had been watching the process. “Uh…” Jun smiles awkwardly, “I was just looking.” “Sit down anyway, I’ll draw something,” he fixes his glasses again, and when Jun does sit down on the chair across from him, a charming smile appears on his face. “I’m Minghao.” “Jun, nice to meet you.” “You’re blushing,” the guy’s bright eyes scrutinize the stranger’s face. Jun averted his sight, blushing more than ever, and a laugh escaped from Hao’s open lips, “Don’t be shy, look at me,” he gently gripped Jun’s chin with warm fingers and turned his face toward his own. It’s the kind of action that gives goosebumps and makes young heart race. Jun tries to hold himself together and stares straight ahead, looking at the guy’s forehead, at his red hair, looking and swallowing hard. Minghao figures something out in his head and dips the brush into the paint, begins to make patterns on the smooth skin. The bristles tickles pleasantly, each cold touch sending electric shocks through his body, Jun is almost out of breath, afraid to move. Minghao bites the tip of his tongue, he’s completely focused on his creation and doesn’t notice how tense the boy in his arms is. Fingers from chin go up and move the dark hair away from brow, opening up more space for creativity. Jun sighs convulsively, burning with shame and pleasure. After a couple of agonizingly long minutes, Minghao pulls back and looks appraisingly at the end result. He nods satisfied, apparently pleased with the work he’s done. “I wanted to decorate your beautiful face with something delicate,” Hao holds out his mirror again for Jun to look at the drawing. There are white daisy-like flowers along his cheekbone, on the temple, and under the eyebrow. They are different sizes: smaller and larger, but all are equally smooth and beautiful. Between the petals are yellow sparks that complete the composition. Jun sighs delightedly, he really likes it. “Wow…” “What do you think?” Hao smiles, catching the genuine joy on Jun’s face. “It’s so nice, thank you!” he looks at his reflection again, admiring the flowers. “Can I take a picture of you?” Minghao pulls phone out of his jeans pocket and points the camera at the young man’s face. “Yes… Sure,” Jun blushes again. Minghao takes a picture and opens the resulting photo. “It’s really cute.”