Aurelia stood in front of the easel, her fingers gripping the brush loosely as she stared at the canvas in front of her. The soft sound of Franco moving around the apartment filled the air, but it was faint, barely noticeable as she sank deeper into her work. A streak of blue bled into the pale yellow background, the colors coming together perfectly.
She'd always been good at this—painting. It came to her like second nature, the way some people were born to sing or dance. For her, it was the brush, the feel of the paint, the way it could make a blank space into something alive.
It had been her escape for so long. When everything was chaotic, when the memories of her childhood clawed at her, demanding attention she never wanted to give, she could turn to painting. The strokes, the colors, the control—it was all hers. Except for one thing: the color red. Red had been tainted for her long ago, its vibrancy turning from something beautiful to something that left her stomach in knots. Even now, the sight of it in her paints would make her hands shake.
She dipped her brush into a soft blue, bringing it up against the canvas with precision. Her mind drifted back to when she was younger, to the scholarships and opportunities that had slipped away from her. She could've gone to college for this. She could've been one of the greats, showcasing her work in galleries, making a name for herself in the art world. But she wasn't allowed to. Her parents had controlled every aspect of her life.
"You should really submit that," Franco's voice came from the kitchen, pulling her out of her thoughts. She glanced over at him, his dark hair slightly tousled, his strong arms moving with ease as he worked on whatever meal he was putting together. His voice was warm, comforting, always pulling her back from the edge.
"Submit what?" she asked, wiping her hands on her oversized hoodie before taking a step back from the painting to look at it with fresh eyes.
"That painting you're working on. It's incredible, Aurelia. You could make something out of this."
Aurelia shrugged, letting her gaze drop to the floor. "I don't know about all that."
"I'm serious." Franco wiped his hands on a dish towel and walked over to her, stopping a few feet away like he always did, giving her the space she needed. He knew about her aversion to touch, to being too close. It was one of the things she loved about him, the way he understood without her having to explain.
"I just... I don't think I'm ready for that," she muttered, eyes flickering back to the canvas. "I mean, I can't even use red."
Franco's face softened. He knew what the color meant to her, how it dredged up things she never wanted to feel again. But he also saw how her talent bloomed despite it. "You don't need red to show how good you are. Look at that." He gestured toward the blue and green, the splashes of orange she had worked into the background. "That's all you. And it's amazing."
Her chest tightened, emotions swirling in a way she wasn't prepared for. She quickly turned back to her painting, pretending to focus on the details, but his words stayed with her.
"Maybe one day," she finally said, keeping her voice low.
Franco smiled, giving a small nod before heading back to the kitchen. "No rush, but you know I believe in you."
She didn't respond, too caught up in her emotions. She loved him, she knew that. Franco had been the first person in her life to make her feel safe, like she didn't have to keep her guard up all the time. But there was still a part of her that resisted—resisted the love, the safety, the idea that she could be happy without everything falling apart.
She worked on her painting for another hour, adding more layers, more depth, her mind lost in the process. But even as she painted, she kept thinking about Franco. About how much he'd done for her, how patient he was, how he never pushed.
Her heart raced as an idea popped into her head, one she wasn't sure she could actually follow through on. But something inside her—maybe it was Franco's words, or maybe it was just her wanting to try—urged her to step out of her comfort zone.
Setting her brush down, she wiped her hands on her hoodie again and glanced toward the kitchen. Franco had moved to the couch, his laptop open as he typed away, probably working on something important. She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest, before she took a deep breath and walked over to him.
"Hey," she said quietly, standing awkwardly at the side of the couch.
Franco looked up, surprised to see her standing so close. "Hey. What's up?"
Aurelia bit her lip, feeling the tension rise in her. "Can I... can I sit with you?"
Franco's eyes widened for a moment, clearly shocked, but he nodded, moving his laptop to the side. "Of course."
Aurelia took another deep breath, her hands shaking slightly as she lowered herself onto his lap. It was a strange feeling, being this close to someone, especially Franco. Her entire body was tense, but she tried to relax, leaning into him just enough to feel his warmth.
Franco didn't say anything, his arms hovering around her as if waiting for her to be okay with it. "You sure about this?" he asked softly, his voice careful, like he didn't want to scare her off.
She nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment. It took everything in her not to pull away, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. His scent—familiar and comforting—washed over her, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like running.
Franco, still cautious, wrapped his arms around her, holding her close but not too tightly. "I'm proud of you," he whispered, his breath warm against her hair.
Aurelia felt a lump form in her throat, and before she could think twice, she tilted her head up and kissed him. It was quick, a soft press of her lips against his, but it felt like everything.
Franco froze for a second, clearly taken aback, but then he kissed her back, gentle and patient, just like he always was. When she pulled away, her face burned, but she didn't regret it. For once, she didn't feel the overwhelming urge to hide or apologize.
"I'm... trying," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"I know," Franco said, his voice full of warmth. "And I'm here. I'll always be here."
Aurelia relaxed a little more in his arms, feeling safe, feeling loved, and for the first time, she believed she might deserve it.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
