Calypso and the Moon

Inlove.

Calypso and James stood infront of one of the largest paintings both of them had ever seen. Mistures of oranges and greens, yellows and purple. Calypso's eyes brushed over each individual stroke of paint, and the imagined what the artist thought of while they painted this.

It was simply beautiful, in the saddest way. It there was a face of a woman, weeping. Her eyes burned with the tears and her cheeks soaked them in, and where a tear had rolled, yellow and orange followers bloomed against her cheek.

James was looking at Calypso. Her green eyes were staring up at the painting like she was a child watching a magic show. It was one of the prettiest pictures he had seen; his butterfly.

So, James reached up and hooked his finger behind her ear, pushing a strand of fallen hair back. She looked at him then, and the look of a child never faltered as she looked at him. Her eyes glinted with childish joy, and she smiled widely at him.

"Isn't it pretty?"

James nodded, his eyes still on the girl, "She sure is," His heart thudded against his chest and in his ears whenever he touched her, and when he cupped her cheek and she leaned into his hand, he felt his wilted flowers grow alive again, and butterflies swarmed around his heart and poked at it.

"James?"

"Hm?" He hummed, and looked at the painting infront of him. Calypso smiled at him, "Thank you for bringing me," James shot her a smile back, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did.

And the butterfly then grabbed his hand and spread her wings, fluttering to another painting, and then another. The two didn't say much as they examined the masterpieces infront of them, merely just smiling at eachother and Calypso laughing whenever James cracked a joke.

Soon enough, Calypso and James had finished their walk through the museum, and James had gotten a call earlier, Adam telling him that the others wanted to go to a local bar, and when he looked at Calypso and she was smiling up at a picture, her hands held up against her chest and eyes filled with astonishment, he declined.

"I wanna live in there," She muttered as she clipped in her seat belt. James smiled as he did his own, "Yeah?" She nodded quickly, smiling at him.

"Home?"

"Mhm,"

"Have you eaten today?"

"Just your toast,"

Calypso frowned at him, "You don't eat nor sleep, James," He tsked, "I do eat, Cal," Calypso hummed, and stared out of the window.

The clouds were heavy above them, dark grey and fat, and then the first splatter of rain fell from the heavens, and Calypso opened her window and stuck her hand out, watching as soft droplets wet her palm.

James was watching her, as he always did. And when she turned to him and her hair blew past her face and she was smiling widely, he felt his stomach churn and felt himself fall inlove with her at that moment, and it felt like he was going down a roller-coaster.

He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. James clenched on his jaw, and hadn't noticed Calypso looking at him, his clenched jaw and his white knuckles.

For Calypso had felt the same exact feeling in the moment, her stomach dropping and she suddenly felt uncomfortable in her seat, in her own skin. She chewed on her bottom lip, and felt her eyes prick with tears.

She wasn't used to her heart hurting like this, it felt deeply unfamiliar. So, she stared out of her window again as silent tears created orange and yellow flowers on her cheeks.