Hues of Love

Vermillion

VERMILION

For the first time, Marya was equals with love. His face was just as blushed as hers was sometimes. She did not need to seek his love, he was not a mountain king handing down upon worthy subjects. Nor was she a monkey keeping the prize out of his reach. For the first time, Marya was loved not for baby fingers, not for a first taste, not for an outlet to channel desperation, not for her innocence-

Marya was loved for her chipper smile, for the books she recommended, for her lust for sweat-breaking work, for her hesitation.

Because Marya did hesitate. When he had slipped his heart into her hands, she was completely at lost. Was she supposed to keep it in her pocket? Leave it on the coat rack? Wear it in her heart? Place it between sweaty skin? Sleep with it at night? Scream and feed it wine? She had no idea.

So she watched it, holding it carefully till she recognized it.

"Go on ahead."

"No. I'll wait for you."

Peter’s umbrella waved.

"You don't have to anymore."

It's quite interesting how a kiss soaked to the bone in heaven's tears is romantic.