Venice is a city of delight for a romanticist fancy pants like Dara.

Every structure entices her and shakes her to the very core, making her breathless with a rush of excitement buzzing dully at the back of her head. It only take her a few second out of the crowded airport before she starts wandering around like a new born lamb, exploring and taking in as much as she could. Kris trails behind her with a chuckle and his hands stuffed in his jeans’ pockets, their luggage was left to a chauffeur and thrown out of their mind. Dara hasn’t realize the small gasps and evident shudders emitted from her but Kris catch every single one of it since he is being observant and this, Kris slowly comes into a formulated thought, this is a good distraction. He fixes his disguise; a baseball cap, sunglass and overly casual printed t-shirt with black jeans.

The city and its buildings – Dara could almost see little to small changes of substances around her like black and white silent film. Memories and time imprinted on the walls through every cracks and dent and chipped paints. This is a living antique, bustling with modern lives and breathing with cheerful chatters. She swoops everything in one big breath and distinctive scent of sea salts and spices and something old curls warmly at the bottom of her belly. She twirls around as radiant as the sun kissing her smooth skin and she laughs freely, a short and high-pitched expression of all her excitement and something plunge down from Kris’s chest. As abrupt as a thunderbolt, she quickly composed herself, dimming all the lights in her eyes and she moulds back into the strong sculpture of professionalism Kris used to sense from her.

“Come on.” Kris drapes an arm over her slim shoulder, a coaxing smile playing in his lips. It is okay to let go now, Kris spoke with his eyes and the next second, he is dragging her down the winding pathways with a toothy smile. "Let’s go for traditional.”

“Traditional what?” Dara stumbles over her step, her short legs trying to match Kris’s long stride. Damn him, Dara curses as she takes a sharp intake of gasping breath.

“You have river sick?” Kris unlocks his phone and a pop up map of Venice appear from the black screen. Although maps are pretty much useless here – this city is also famous with its confusing networks of narrow roads and being lost more than once is inevitable here, bless lord, it was the treasure and gem of it – Kris did gained a bit of confidence.

“There’s no such thing as river sick, Wu Yifan.” She seethes, eyes widening due to unnecessary exertion of energy used to keep up with a certain 6 foot and a couple more inches and blindly wading through the heavy masses of crowd. Suddenly, he stops in his track and his hand stretched out to stop her from falling straight into the water canal. Dara, still oblivious of her own death attempt, grows out a guttural sound in frustration before she whips her head up in a record speed – it is the Great Canal. It is the great, Great Canal. The corner of her eyes soften and her face lights up with the brightest smile Kris has ever seen on her. “My god, wow, it’s real.”

“Yeah, amazing isn’t?” He fishes around his pockets and pulls out a 72 hours pass he bought earlier while Dara freshened up at the airport’s wash room. “Come on, then. We’re taking this ride.” Kris flashes the pass and boards into the swaying vaporetto with a huge step. He turns on his heels and offers a hand back to Dara.

She hesitates instead, her hand hanging in the air in contemplation. There is something heavy in Kris’s eyes and she understand the unspoken words like she always does recently whenever she’s with him. This is more than just an invitation, this is Kris asking her permission to use her. There had always been a slow buzz between them, settling comfortably enough for both to still see the line between them. But accepting his hand, agreeing to this insanity, would amplify it to full blast and she wasn’t really sure if she could still tiptoe around the obvious. More than a friend, lesser than a lover, Dara slowly peels the gravity of the idea layer by layer until all that is left is the core of mellow want she has for him.

“I want to try this ride.” Dara places her hand over Kris’s larger palm, her lips thinning into a set determination. “Just once.” If she’s going to play this, Dara steps into the vaporetto, she will survive this unscathed.

It was a slow journey, the rumbling of eng