Title: Learn to Fly: Chapter Two, I'll show you mine, if you'll...
Rating: PG [mild language]

Summary: Dave gets to see Melanie's art.




She couldn't believe she was walking down the street to her apartment with him. Of all the coffeehouses in the world she had chosen to stop in that day, it had to be that particular one, the one where a smile would distract her from her reading, and lead to her inviting him back to her place. Mel smirked. It's not like they were going back there to do anything and if he thought they would, Mr. Rock Star had something coming to him. He just wanted to see her art. And as there wasn't any in any nearby galleries, he would have to make do with seeing some things she didn't submit to any galleries yet.
"So... what's your medium?" he asked casually, keeping stride with the petite, dark-haired girl.
"Mostly acrylic. I don't like to wait for paint to dry," she replied. "Though I dabble in found objects and ceramics as well."
"Interesting," he commented. "And it's political in nature?"
"Is what you do?" she retorted.
"Sometimes," he responded.
"Then there's your answer," Mel replied. "This one is me."
She motioned to a brick two storied building. Leading him up the steps, she unlocked the door. Pausing to check her mailbox, Mel headed up the wooden steps to the second floor, not pausing to see if he was following or not.
He was of course. Dave was not more than a few feet behind her, thinking she would find it humourous if he got lost. And not come looking for him. She was rather intense and aloof at the same time. That alone intrigued him.
Inserting her key into her lock, Mel opened the door with her shoulder, dropping the pile of junk mail in a basket near the door. Her keys clanged to the wood next to it.
From all exterior premises, one would think her apartment to be rather small. But the benefit of having the second floor was the open rafters. Mel loved that. And the fact the apartment was nearly wall-less, she guessed it could be classified as a studio apartment, though it hadn't been when she moved in. She had asked if she could take the walls down. Anything not load-bearing came down. Giving her two rather nicely size rooms.
Across from the door a few easels were set up, so that she could look out the large windows. Splatters of paint decorated each of them, though nothing seemed all that coherant in the peices. Which was precisely why they were still on the easels. Dave was instantly drawn to them, their energy tempting him with secrets of the woman he just met.
"Oh not those," she stated, moving to a stack of canvases. "They're unfinished, still learning their language."
He followed her, though struggled to not look at the easeled canvases. His dark eyes dropped to her back as she squatted. A little smirk touched his mouth, seeing her low-rise pants drift dangerously low.
"I don't wear panties, if that's what you're trying to figure out," she declared before standing up. "They're too restrictive."
His mouth opened slightly in surprise, before he closed it as she handed him a few works.
"This is a series I did when in Atlantic City a few months ago," Mel offered. "The lights were my inspiration."
They were smaller pieces, no more than 10 inches square, but size clearly did not matter when it came to impact. Bright colours with hints of emblems, characters, and other such things jumped from the very white canvas. It was almost as if the colours needed to be as far from the virgin canvas as possible, but were trapped by the plasticity of the paint.
"Wow. Now these would be a trip to look at drunk," he commented.
Mel smirked, "Isn't Atlantic City like that itself?"
"Very true," he nodded, handing the stack back to her. "Anything else you'd like to show me?"
She nodded, turning to retrive another pile before he even asked. Handing him another series of small pieces, these a little larger than the previous, her eyes expectantly went to his.
"Cape Cod," Mel stated.
There was definitely a serenity in these works. Formed in blues and greens with a few interjections of cotton candy pink and sandy beiege, the lines of the abstractions curved around the canvas. He smiled crookedly as he flipped through each of them.
"You definitely seem to capture .... the feeling of each location," he stated, offered the pieces back.
"Not necessarily always a location thing," Mel declared. "And this is the final series you get to see."
"Fair enough," he replied.
After returning the Cape Cod canvases to their proper storage locations, Mel grasped his hand and lead him to the other side of the room. She pushed him rather forcefully onto the couch. He almost thought she was going to kiss him. But instead, she flashed him a sadistic grin and left him sitting on the couch alone, disappearing through the only doorway in the apartment.
Hearing the sounds of the beads, as that had replaced the rigid wood door, Dave looked over to see what she had in store for him then. She carried a canvas almost as tall as her, and half as wide, narrow, but tall.
"Close your eyes," she instructed, stopping in front of him.
He did as instructed. Waiting a moment to insure he had done such, Mel pivoted the first of three to face him, leaving the other two facing her, tucked behind the first.
"Okay. Don't say anything until you've seen them all. Then you can tell me what they mean," she declared.
His dark eyes fluttered open and settled on the canvas. She noticed his eyes dialate slightly and had to bite back a smile. Giving him another moment, she replaced that one with the next canvas. His eyes went to her face during the change, without instruction. When he glanced at the second, Mel could swear she saw him shiver slightly. That too brought a small smile to her lips. Again he looked to her eyes as she shifted to the third and final of the series. Holding her gaze a bit longer, Mel felt like Dave was trying to figure something out, trying to see into her soul through her eyes. It was her who broke eye contact first.
Not seeing his intitial reaction to the third piece, she turned it around so only the back was to him. For a moment she stood there, balancing each painting precariously. Eyes flicking to his, she once again left the room, returning the paintings to where they belonged.
Dave waited far more patiently than he thought he could for her return, especially after seeing those final paintings. Maybe she had shown them to him on purpose, so he would feel as he did, he wasn't certain. No matter her intention, waiting for her seemed to last forever.
She plopped down onto the couch next to him, breaking his thoughts. An uneasy smile touched both of their lips.
"You may speak now," she declared.
"You're very lonely, aren't you?" he asked.
"What? No," Mel quickly stated. "That's what you got from those?"
"They're about love. And how you miss having it," Dave declared.
For the longest moment she stared at him. A moment later she stood, pointing to the door.
"Out."
"What did I do?" he asked, not standing.
"Just leave."
"Melanie, please," Dave pleaded gently.
"LEAVE," she growled.