Work Of Art

03. Wine Stain

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For a moment I wanted to slap away the smirk on his face but was afraid that if I do so, I'd ruin the hard work made by the gods themselves. Dressed in brands, his eyes were slightly hooded, the corners of his lips slightly turned down and two visible moles decorating his features; one on his cheek and the other just at the tip of his nose.

As if he was a painting, done by Vincent Van Gogh himself.

When he noticed that I was staring with my jaw almost hitting the floor, he chuckles softly, shaking his head and causing the silver hair to move away from his eyes. ''Was my pickup line that bad?''

I shake my head with the hope to hide the embarrassment crawling onto my face. ''Well I've heard worse.''

He doesn't say anything, yet he comes even closer, leaving just a few inches of space in between both of our bodies. ''Would love to know more about it over a couple of drinks.''

His low voice, like a switch, caused the skin on my neck to stand straight up.

And not in a good kind of way.

''Lovely, but no, thank you.'' I say, huffing the air out that I had kept way too long inside of my lungs.

I dart my view back on the painting and I notice that he does the same, almost as if repeating my movements as a joke. But I can still feel his eyes locked on me and his body being way too close for my own liking.

That creep.

Before I could move away from the handsome and almost scary looking man, he lightly chuckles once again, and I shoot him a bemused glare. ''I'm sorry, did I say something funny?''

''Ah'', he says, dragging the syllable nonchalantly. ''I thought you were going to say that. You're a tough cookie.''

Within seconds, the distance between us decreases, now almost being non existent as I can feel his breath brushing against the skin of my neck. ''I like it.''

I roll my eyes, my annoyance almost vivid in the humid air filled with voices and sweet talk, but he doesn't stop there. As if my lack of interest made him even more intrigued.

''You do know that you're talking to the owner of the exhibition, right?''

My blood froze at his words as I try to sound that I wasn't stunned at all. ''Is this how you try to make girls sleep with you? Because it's not working.''

His lips tug up in a grin, a sinister one. ''If my money and wealth can't buy you, maybe my actions can.''

Without knowing my reflexes would kick in, my body immediately flinched at his words as I turn around, unintentionally brushing against his elbow and spilling the wine he held in his hand.

Once white buttoned up blouse he was wearing had been covered in blotches of deep red color.

His prominent jaw drops immediately, but he doesn't say anything. He just smiles, almost giggling at the situation in front of him. The bastard found this amusing and my thoughts were telling me that this was exactly what he deserves.

Without much thinking and trying to help him clean the mess I've made, I simply turn around, wriggling through the crowd and making my way outside the museum, not wanting to see his face ever again.

Once my feet were touching the sidewalk, I was greeted with the ice cold wind, sending shivers down my spine.

Hugging my thick coat, I make my way down the ally, the street lamps leading me through.

For some reason the night would always look ten times creepier when I was by myself, which got me thinking that I haven't even seen Haru and that she'll murder me once she finds out I bailed on her.

But when I tell her what happened at the museum, she'll probably forget that I left without a notice.

Thankfully enough, I catch a glimpse of the old buildings, the ones were my apartment was in and were the street lamps increased in number, allowing me to feel relaxed and somewhat safe, when in reality, I shouldn't.

Unsure of when I began to hear a pair of footsteps behind me, my stomach twisted in knots, it being like an alarm switch and making me unconsciously walk faster, not wanting to look behind my back.

Though the curiosity got the best of me as a glance over my shoulder reveals a tall figure walking behind me, head down.

That's when I realise I was no longer walking, but running as my breath turned shallow and my heartbeat spiked up.

This is the night where I die.

In a matter of seconds, I was basically jogging, moving so quickly as I could down the street, now every shadow looking like a person trying to kidnap me.

With the air in my lungs and blood pumping through my veins, I ran for my dear life, not daring to turn around behind.

It's him. It has to be. And I was his next target.

A strangled sob escapes my lips when I finally stand at the front door of my apartment. My shaky hands were rummaging through the pockets in hope of finding the damn key.

But my heart sinks deep and my breathing stops when I hear the sound of rough footsteps pounding the concrete behind me, this time louder than ever before.

''No, no, no.'' I say, almost manically trying to grab the keys, the only thought in my mind was to find a shelter, to get away from whoever it was coming from behind me.

I'm not ready to die.

Once my fingertips wrap around the key, I take it out, now swiftly trying to unlock the front door but my hands were shaking way too much.

''Oh, god, oh god.'' Going out of my mind, I cry out, almost hysterically turning the door knob in hope that it will just magically open up, letting me escape, but I was wrong.

I was so wrong.

Each second was eating away the tingling hope in my bones and when a pair of hands grabs my waist, I scream in shock. Now realizing it was probably the end but my limbs were still trying to wiggle my way out only to have the hands tighten even more around my body.

Though my fear doesn't fade away, it only becomes stronger after a voice whispers in my ear, its deep tone leaving me frozen in place. "You didn't think that I would let you leave after you ruined my Gucci button-up, now did you?"