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He seemed sunken, his brow furrowed as he looked down at his hands. "I don't know, Fleur," he said tiredly as the car approached. "Maybe I was a...
She kissed his forehead gently, but her mind was elsewhere, thinking about the task. "Maybe... what about clouds? Those are easy."
This seemed to upset him and he fell silent. “I don’t want you to settle.”
“I have great ideas,” she admitted, reflecting on this.
“That’s not how I feel,” he replied. “That’s never been how I feel, Fleur.”
“That’s a good idea,” she agreed. “We’ll figure it out.”
He laughed a little, looking over at her, his shoulders slumped. “But you’re still mad...?”
“Really. I’m so lucky to have you,” she told him, her voice softening.
He folded his hands, looking down at the street for a moment. “That’s not... that’s not just something I can turn on and off.”
She squinted at him, flushing a little. “Hard to believe you don’t have a lot of experience with flirting game like that.”
“Then what do we do?” he asked, looking up at her. “How do you propose that we fix this?”
“Blind confidence has gotten me to success.”
His face fell before it hardened and he fell silent. “So... are you breaking up with me?”
“Well... you just... you don’t seem that interested. Which is fine. We don’t have to do it.”
He looked over at her, his posture stiffening. “What are you saying?”
“Well... you’re right. Neither of us are good painters and we don’t know what to paint.”
His face fell and he sat next to her on the curb, his shoulders slumping. “Because I love you,” he told her gently. “I can’t have you out here...
Her face fell a little and she looked down at the floor. “Maybe it’s not a good idea.”
"Never, Fleur," he replied icily. "You've never had to because the pathways that you have available are safe. They're beautiful and perfect and...
"How about this? If we hate it, we'll go out and paint over it."
