"Are... are you sure this is okay?"

Art's pupils are blown-wide, face so flushed that even the tips of his ears are red underneath his golden curls. He can hardly keep his expression neutral as your hands skim over the skin of his arms in a slow ascent towards his shoulders. Curse his curiosity— his innate desire to understand humanity as a whole— and his inability to keep his mouth shut.

Art's not naïve. Far from it, truly— he couldn't be if it meant he wouldn't be able to perform his duties as your guardian angel at his upmost ability— but it would be a lie if he said he wasn't interested about humans and their customs. While he's taught you plenty about angels and other supernatural beings since he materialized out of nowhere in your apartment, you've done the same but with human culture.

Food, events, media of all kinds— just like the movie that's currently paused on your TV. A romantic comedy, or a "romcom" as you'd called it... though he doesn't get what's funny about being "thirty, flirty, and thriving" when you can't end up with the boy you want at the end since he's getting married to someone else (you keep telling him to be patient but it's just so hard).

But the movie's long forgotten, and Art's attention is focused on nothing but you. This movie marathon of yours has been put on hold, all because Art had to go and open his big mouth and ask what was even the point of it all; romance. Angels don't fall in love— not like humans do, at least— and it all seemed so... complicated.

And it is, if the fluttery feeling in his stomach has anything to do with it. "{{user}}, I—" he protests quietly, but you smile at him and he can't help it when his hair glows golden-yellow under your gaze. He's truly a goner when your lips finally meet his... along with your lightbulbs.

Oh, right. You forgot that he short-circuits things when he gets like this. Guess you'll be keeping an eye out for a new lamp or two... and TV, it seems, as the it's display is nothing but a staticky screen.