After we finished arranging his things in his condo, Lan showed me his painting room. His condo had two rooms, one for himself and another dedicated entirely to his art. The space was neat and organized, with canvases, brushes, and paints all carefully placed in their spots. His completed paintings hung on the walls, each piece showcasing his undeniable talent.
I found myself walking around the room, taking it all in. The colors, the strokes, the emotions that seemed to pour out from each piece—everything felt so alive. As I roamed my eyes over each artwork, I couldn’t help but feel amazed. “These are incredible,” I said, turning to face him.
Lan was sitting quietly in his chair, watching me with his usual calm demeanor, but there was a softness in his gaze.
I continued, “Seriously, Lan. You’re so good. These paintings… they’re amazing.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the kind that was subtle but spoke volumes. “Thanks,” he replied, his voice steady, but I could sense he appreciated the compliment.
I walked over to one of his larger pieces hanging on the wall, running my fingers just above the surface of the canvas, careful not to touch it. “I didn’t realize you could create something this… captivating.”
Lan remained quiet, letting me admire his work. There was something about the way he captured emotions on a canvas that felt almost surreal. I turned back to him, my heart swelling with admiration not just for his talent, but for the way he poured himself into his art.
“You really are something else,” I murmured, moving closer to him. He looked up at me, his eyes locking with mine, and for a moment, we didn’t need words. His art spoke for him, and I couldn’t help but feel proud to be by his side, witnessing this part of him.
Suddenly, Lan grabbed me and gently pulled me into his lap. His face nestled into the crook of my neck, and I could feel his warm breath against my skin, sending a soft shiver down my spine. For a moment, we just sat there in silence, the weight of something unspoken hanging between us.
Then he spoke, his voice low and sincere. "Before I moved into your condo, I lost my desire to paint," he began, his words catching me off guard. "I couldn't bring myself to even touch a brush, let alone stroke it against a canvas. It was like the inspiration just... disappeared."
I felt his arms tighten around me, and I turned my head slightly, glancing at him. He continued, "But when I moved in with you, things changed. Slowly, without even realizing it, I found myself picking up the brush again. It wasn’t immediate, but being around you… knowing you, Xian… you brought something back to life in me."
His words made my heart swell, and I could feel the emotion behind them. "You bring the colors back into my life," he whispered softly, his lips brushing against my neck as he spoke. "You’re the reason I started painting again."
Hearing him say that hit me deeply. I hadn’t realized how much of an impact I had on him. I placed my hand gently over his, feeling the connection between us. "Lan... I didn’t know," I murmured, my voice barely audible.
He lifted his head slightly, his eyes meeting mine, filled with a quiet intensity. "You’re my inspiration now," he said, his gaze unwavering, making me feel like I was the center of his world in that moment.
I leaned back into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, my heart full with the realization of how much we meant to each other."And one of the reasons why I let myself step into your world, Xian," Lan continued, his voice soft but steady, "I wanted to be part of your world. I didn’t care much for that kind of attention before, but I tried doing the joint project with you because I wanted to be closer to you."
I turned to face him fully, my chest tightening with the weight of his confession. Lan had always been the kind of person who kept things to himself, and hearing him say that he deliberately put himself in the spotlight—something I knew wasn’t his comfort zone—just to be with me was overwhelming.
"You... did that for me?" I asked, my voice slightly shaky.
He gave a small nod, his gaze never leaving mine. "Yeah, I did. Being in your world, sharing that with you... it became important to me."Lan’s words hung in the air, filling the room with a warmth I hadn’t expected. I stared at him, my heart swelling with emotion I couldn’t quite express.
"You didn’t have to do that, Lan," I said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. "You’ve always had your own world, your art... that’s what I admired about you from the start. You didn’t need to step into mine just to be close."
He leaned back in the chair, keeping me on his lap, his arms wrapping around my waist securely. "Maybe," he replied, his voice thoughtful. "But I wanted to. I wanted to know what it’s like to stand beside you, not just behind my paintings. You make things brighter, easier."
I felt a lump in my throat, emotions swirling inside me. He’d always been my steady, stoic Lan—calm, composed, and rarely revealing what he was thinking but here he was, opening up in a way I hadn’t expected.
I cupped his face in my hands, meeting his gaze. "I’m glad you did. You didn’t just step into my world—you made it better. I don’t know if I’ve told you that enough."
Lan’s lips curved into the faintest smile, the kind that always made my heart race. He pulled me closer, his forehead resting against mine.
"I just wanted you to know, Xian," he whispered. "You’re my inspiration, in more ways than one."
I pressed my lips gently to his, feeling the tenderness of the moment as everything else seemed to fade away.
