At 1 pm. I wait for Dalha with another man tagging along. Ket is in casual clothes today: a shirt, knee-length shorts, and sneakers. I admit he grew up charming, making girls' heads turn. I'm slightly jealous that he became this tall after disappearing for two years. What did he eat in England?

 

Dalha said she'd be ten minutes late, so Ket and I decided to stroll around the mall. I don't remember the last time I went to the mall. Sorn usually provided everything for me more than a mother could have done. I checked my painting tools this morning, and my brushes started to get stiff, so I figured I'd buy new ones in a bookstore with a stationery section.

 

"What are you getting?" Ket asks in a low voice after stopping beside me as I select the brushes.

 

"Paintbrushes. Mine got stiff already."

 

"Um," Ket mumbles in his throat, his eyes fixed on the paintbrush sets. I'm surprised he's interested in this kind of thing since he's never painted before. Well, weeks ago, I spotted him hanging out with Aun, the club vice-president, who excels in watercolour painting. I guess he wishes to give it a try.

 

"Is this one good?"

 

I inch closer to study the brush in a gorgeous square box. Judging by the price, it's high-quality. It wouldn't be worth over a thousand otherwise.

 

"What do you need it for?"

 

"Painting."

 

"No need to buy expensive ones. Use this for practice." I hand Ket a light-brown, round paintbrush, the one you use in art classes in middle school. It's cheap and light, with a moderately soft brush.

 

"I'll take both," Ket says, picking up the box of a brush worth over a thousand and one for amateurs.

 

Sometimes I just don't understand rich people. Come to think of it, Ning pointed out soon after his arrival that he fought with his family. I wonder how he can afford these fancy tools.

 

"Ning told me you had a fight with your family."

 

Ket freezes upon my words as he selects the brushes.

 

"Right."

 

"Do they give you money?" He doesn't work as I do.

 

"They still transfer it to me."

 

Ugh, I envy him. He has money even when he fights with his family. Look at me. My parents cut ties and left

 

"I fought with my family because I left England to apply to the university here."

 

I didn't know this.

 

"Why? Did they plan to make you stay there until you get old?" I joke, but his silence is the answer. I changed the topic to lighten up the mood.

 

"Don't you hate the sea?"

 

"I do."

 

"Why didn't you apply for a university in Chiang Mai?"

 

"You're not in Chiang Mai."

 

I don't like this. His flirting words never fail to make my heart race. Even though I'm still mad at him for not telling me anything and being sarcastic yesterday, those words soften me up just like that.

 

"Seriously, why did you come back?"

 

"I want to apologise to you. Even if it's useless, I still want to apologise."

 

He says that evenly with a painful expression. I catch a glimpse of his wavering eyes before they become unreadable like usual.

 

"For what?"

 

"For not asking if you were hurt that day."

 

"Did your dad hit you? Was it painful?"

 

"Ket."

 

"I knew you were hurt, yet I worsened the wounds by turning my back on you." Ket touches my cheek with his warm hand, stroking it gently as if asking for forgiveness.

 

"You don't need to forgive me. I just wish to start over with you."

 

"Why didn't you tell me in the first place? Why did you mess with my head?"

 

"I just.."

 

Buzz, buzz.

My phone buzzes, interrupting our conversation. I watch Ket walk off to check out at the cashier counter and pick up Dalha's call.

 

"Hello."

 

[I've arrived. I'll wait in front of Watson's.]

 

"Okay. I'm buying brushes. I'll be right there."

 

I quickly check out after Dalha hangs up. While we head to Watson's, Ket remains quiet. He helps me carry the shopping bag and walks beside me. The man who got brighter than yesterday is now sulking.

 

I wish I could open my heart again, but Ket's reason isn't convincing enough sometimes. He came back to apologise, yet he didn't say it earlier. Instead, he stalled for way too long. I don't know if he was as hurt as I was when he disappeared from my life, but I've been in an endless nightmare for two years. How am I supposed to open my heart?

 

I expect to see a girl in front of Watson's, but Fou sticks by her side, looking like a ferocious tiger. It seems he refuses to let me be alone with Dalha, just as Ket wouldn't allow it.

 

"She needs a chaperone?" I mumble. Fou bares his fangs at me.

 

Aight, aight, I won't say another word. The four of us squeeze into the health and beauty store. The target of the three men and one girl is the lipstick shelf. When I see all the lipsticks lining there, I think...No shades of colour can be compared to women's lipsticks.

 

"What kind of shade are you looking for?" 

 

Dalha browses the lipsticks on the shelf. Since they're mostly worth hundreds, not to mention the sale labels, I won't be broke.

 

"Red."

 

"Then this one, this one, and this one. This one is pretty, too." Fou and Ket stand behind the only girl, enjoying the selection of lipsticks. I also enjoy it. All the various shades astonish me. You don't have to mix the colours as they're already mixed. It saves so much time.

 

"Let's try."

 

Dalha applies lipstick to my wrist, up my forearm. Red, dark red, orange-red, pink-red, purple-red, and all the reds are present on my arm, but that's not it. There's more!

 

In a few minutes, both my arms are full of numerous shades of red. My preferred shades are dark red, fresh red, average red, and orange-red. I'll pass the pink-red and purple-red ones.

 

"Dalha."

 

I call the cute girl who now switches her attention to other cosmetics.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Which one is which?"

 

Dalha's eyes widen.

 

"Oops, I forgot!"

 

Shit.

We have to redo the whole thing?!

 

"Use your ex's arms to identify each shade." 

 

Dalha's clear voice sounds taunting, especially when she stresses 'your ex,' which makes Ket pull a face. Fou is nowhere to be seen. He would've been in the same situation as me had he presented. I drag Ket to the lipstick shelf and open each product.

 

This is probably crimson. I apply it to Ket's arm without asking for permission, and he stands still obediently, not caring if it'll be a mess. This side of him is adorable. Wait, don't soften up.

 

"Is this orange-red?" I try another colour. When it shows the correct result, I put the lipstick on his palm, holding it out as if to say I can leave it here. His hands are big. They can hold as many lipsticks as I wish. I'll get started, then.

 

I try the lipsticks on his arms to my heart's content, forgetting Dalha is here. I apply every shade and drop the ones I like on Ket's hands. I'm sure they will be fantastic on my piece.

 

Ket's arms are no different from mine. Our forearms are covered in red, and it cracks me up. Ket looks at me quietly and smiles.

 

"Why are you smiling?"

 

"You're smiling now." My smile fades. I press my lips together tightly, realising I was smiling unconsciously. I just didn't expect to select lipsticks with Ket. I push Ket's chest as he grins. He looks overjoyed to see me smile, then he turns his attention to his arms and complains.

 

"I don't like red."

 

"Who cares? It must be red."

 

It portrays passion and pain.

"But red looks good on you." I turn my head abruptly and flick his forehead for being silly.

 

"I've never put on lipstick."

 

"It was Dalha's lipstick."

 

Why did he bring it up? I purse my lips and look away from this jerk. He keeps bringing up the past. If I do it, he'll burst into tears.

 

"All right. I'm done." I cast my eyes on dozens of lipsticks in his hands. Ket studies King's art on his arms in annoyance, yet he doesn't wipe it off.

 

"How are these different?" he asks with a deadpan face.

 

"Can't your brain distinguish colours?"

 

"Oh, I mean it. How does this differ from this?" Ket points to the red-orange colour and the slightly lighter one.

 

"They're different. It's lighter."

 

He flips his arms toward himself and observes the colours on his arms.

 

"They're not different."

 

'They are."

 

"No, they're not."

 

"They are!"

 

"Not at all."

 

I've learned today that girls fighting with boys about lipstick is normal. My brain can distinguish colours better than that stupid Ket. I bet girls' brains are the same. Their delicacy probably helps them differentiate even slightly similar shades. 

 

I won't be surprised if girls complain about having too many lipsticks. There are light red, dark red, blood red, fresh red, crimson, purple-red, pink-red, and more. Not to mention the velvety, glossy, and many other types Dalha mentioned as she applied them to my arms-I enjoyed it, though.

 

I'm back home happily with a green bag full of lipsticks. Today I'll use the huge canvas frame after using it once and leaving it behind the closet. Ket and I split into our own rooms as soon as we arrived. 

I drag the giant canvas frame out and lean it against the wall, then pour the lipsticks out and line them up on the desk in delight. I study dozens of lipsticks quietly before realising something. I don't know how to put it on. How do I do it?

 

I pick one up and stand in front of the bathroom mirror. A beginner like me slowly applies fresh red lipstick to my lips, but it turns out hideous because they're chapped.

 

I forgot to ask Dalha how to put it on. Why doesn't it look like the shape of lips? The beautiful shape becomes round like a doughnut.

 

I call Dalha right when someone knocks on my door. I open it to find Ket holding out a bag. A laugh escapes his mouth when he sees my face. I scowl at him but don't care much. I quickly turn my attention to the phone as soon as she picks up.

 

"Hello, Dalha? I don't know how to apply lipstick. My lips are chapped and dry. How do I draw a beautiful shape? A lip balm? Will it affect the lipstick? The color...Oh, put lip balm on and wait for a moment? Okay, okay. Let someone else do it for me? Ah..ah, okay. Thanks."

 

How did I even get close to Dalha when we barely talked before?

 

I plop on the floor in weariness and wipe off the lipstick I put on earlier before Ket laughs himself to death, and I need to throw away his body.

 

"You don't know how to do it?"

 

"Yeah," I answered honestly. Even though I can distinguish colours, it's difficult to apply lipstick without smearing it out of the line.

 

"Come here."

 

Ket takes the lipstick from my hand and sits closer to me. He lifts my chin for a better view and carefully applies it to my lips. My heart nearly stops at that moment.

 

"Do you do this often...?"

 

"Don't speak." The man before me tries his best to put lipstick on my lips, and 1 unconsciously gaze at those gorgeous brown eyes. I sit quietly, letting Ket do the work. I take in his determination and recall the past.

 

Ket was incredibly attentive when we were together. Due to our different preferences, I always thought we didn't need to remember everything. I didn't remember what Ket liked, but he wasn't like that. He knew everything I liked. My favourite university, favourite colour, most and least favourite food, and most and least favourite activities. He remembered it all.

 

"Done."

 

I get up and check myself in the mirror. My lips are completely red. This is a success. It doesn't smear out of line, and the shape is definite enough. Now, it's time to try.

 

I bend up and down, looking for a piece of paper to kiss, but someone grabs me. Ket squeezes my cheeks with his big hand and forces me to kiss his cheek all of a sudden.

 

"Hey."

 

The man before me cracks a satisfied smile.

 

"If you want to try it, do it on my cheeks. They're always available."

 

"Can I stamp my footprints instead?"

 

"No, thanks."

 

Ket shies away. I sigh, trying to control my wild emotions. Even though we've gotten closer and spent more time with each other, I shouldn't forget what I went through. If history repeats itself..I won't have any feelings left for this man.

 

I squeeze Ket's cheeks, making his lips pucker up. I look at the vivid red kiss mark on his cheek. They're so pretty that I can't believe they're my lips. The perfect thin shape, not too thick, horn chestnut-shaped like girls. That should do.

 

I wipe my lips roughly, but it's hard to remove, and the colour remains. I don't want the colour to change when I use it on the canvas. What should I use, then? Wet wipes?

 

Ket passes the bag he brought to me out of the blue. It contains wet wipes and peach-scented lip balm. I don't know when he got all of this. The stuff inside the bag makes my heart drum.

 

"When did you buy these?" I ask the man in front of me as he checks his cheek in the small mirror. He studies my kiss mark and seems satisfied, not looking at me.

 

"When you left the store."

 

I see. I noticed him checking out at the cashier counter, but I had no clue what he bought. I thought it was something for himself.

 

I press my lips together. This is why I said this man was attentive. He notices everything and thinks about it without being told. Ket is softening me up.

 

"If you have to put lipstick on and remove it several times, your lips will be dry. I actually wanted to protest the idea at first, but you looked so happy that I couldn't say a word."

 

"Oh, yeah?" I smile secretly at how caring Ket is. He hands me the small mirror.

 

"You need this, too. If you have to go to the bathroom often, it'll interrupt the flow."

 

I stare at the mirror like a precious thing.

 

"Plus.." Ket touched my smeared lips with his long fingers, stroking them freely, sending heat up my face.

 

"I love your lips."

".."

 

"Don't overwork yourself."

This odd heat rushes to my eyes, and looks away. The atmosphere resembling the past gradually embraces my dark heart. Why...Why does he have to be so gentle...

When I believe I need more time to heal...?