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· 🙤 •° · ︻╦デ╤━━╾ ·°• 🙦 ·
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❝ What's wrong? Jealous? ❞
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THE WOMAN ON THE STAGE saunters about in a slow and sensual manner. She waves a red, feathery fan in rhythm with the music. The taunting gleam in her eyes flashes a crowd of onlookers—their excited murmurs humming through the room like a sleepy beehive.
Off by the front, right below the stage, sits Five. He has one leg propped over the other and his back against the chair. Though he seems to be watching, his mind wanders somewhere else.
How on God's green earth will he escape this disaster? Well, he and Flare. Cleaning up a mess of this magnitude grows more difficult by the minute, and she is the sole factor that continues to complicate the equation.
Speaking of Flare, how long has it been since they parted ways? Surely it could not have been less than fifteen minutes. An abnormal amount of time has passed. Does she usually take this long to fawn over puppies?
She's fine, he tells himself, probably just distracted as usual.
Five decides that she will be in shortly. Instead of fretting, now would be a good time to kick back and stop letting the girl plague his mind for once. After all, he has been chasing her for a very, very long time.
So, he pushes away any thoughts of Flare and refocuses his attention on the woman ahead.
She continues to sway to and fro across the stage. Her flirtatious smile teases the crowd, which effortlessly rouses their chatter.
Her getup is sparkly and blinding. It is almost a shade of red, too. Except this color is more orange—like hibiscus and carnelian pebbles. Quite unlike the crimson flames that burst to life in Flare's hands.
Flare. He wonders if she would marvel at the tiny gemstones embroidered into the fabric, or if she would crinkle her nose like she always does when she's displeased and scowl scornfully. Perhaps she would say, "Five, what are you thinking? A deeper, ruby red would be better!" or something of the sort.
Five shakes his head. This is an ailment. He can't stop thinking about her for more than one second. Really, at this point, it feels almost obsessive. Good thing he's not obsessed, though—certainly not.
Red, he thinks, is a decent color. Despite it being too far flashy and aggressive for his liking, he can still understand the appeal. Especially to someone like Flare with her loud and brash nature. She certainly exemplifies red.
