Art Imitates Life

Chapter 6

Tom sat in the office of Professor Halstead, the head of the art department, his heart hammering as he tried to stay calm. The professor had called him in just after his morning class, saying he had some "exciting news." Tom held his breath as Professor Halstead glanced over a piece of paper, then looked up with a pleased smile.

"Tom, I'm thrilled to let you know you've been invited to represent our school at the International Art Expo in China," he said.

For a moment, Tom's brain couldn't process the words. The International Art Expo—one of the world's most prestigious events, with artists, critics, and collectors from every corner of the globe gathering in one place. This was the kind of opportunity most artists dreamed of their entire lives. A chance to showcase his work, to meet people who could shape his career.

"China?" Tom's voice was barely above a whisper, his chest tight with excitement. "Professor, that's... I can't believe it."

Professor Halstead's smile softened. "We're all incredibly proud of you, Tom. You've earned this."

The professor glanced down, his smile fading slightly. "However, the trip will come with a bit of a cost—flights, accommodations, and fees for the expo. All in, we're looking at about $20,000."

Tom's excitement faltered. He felt his heart sink, and his breath grew shallow. Twenty thousand dollars. His family didn't have that kind of money, and neither did he. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and he swallowed hard, his fingers twisting together as he tried to keep his emotions in check. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—and it was slipping away.

He looked down, biting his lip as he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "I—I don't have that kind of money, Professor. I don't know how I'd..."

He trailed off, feeling that familiar sting of disappointment. Just as he was about to give in to the sinking feeling, Professor Halstead cleared his throat, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, there's something else I need to mention," he said, sliding a form across the desk. "Someone has already donated the funds. An anonymous benefactor, under the initials 'CH.'"

Tom's heart leapt, and a jolt of recognition shot through him. CH. There was only one person he knew with those initials who might do something like this. He felt a wave of emotions—relief, joy, gratitude, and something warm and tender blooming in his chest.

"It's Chris..." he murmured, half to himself, his voice full of awe.

Professor Halstead's smile grew wider. "I can't say for sure. But whoever it was clearly believes in you."

Tom nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude so intense that he had to blink back the tears. "Thank you, Professor. I... I can't believe this is happening."

After finishing up in the office, Tom headed home, his heart racing as he shared the news with his family. His parents' faces lit up with pride, and his siblings crowded around, peppering him with questions about the expo and congratulating him with hugs and pats on the back. The whole room was filled with laughter and excitement, and Tom felt a kind of happiness he hadn't felt in a long time. He was living a dream—and it was all thanks to Chris.

Later that night, as he lay in bed, he found himself staring at his phone, fingers hovering over the screen. He didn't even have to think twice before pressing the FaceTime icon next to Chris's name.

It only took a few rings before Chris picked up, and Tom's screen filled with that familiar, easy grin. But there was something different tonight—a smugness in Chris's eyes that made Tom shake his head, a small laugh escaping him.

"I figured you'd call," Chris said, leaning back on his couch. "Guess you got the news?"

Tom chuckled, his voice thick with emotion. "You didn't have to do that, Chris. Twenty thousand dollars... That's... it's too much."

Chris shrugged, his expression softening. "Nothing's too much for you, Tom. You've got something rare. The world deserves to see it. And honestly," he added, his smile turning slightly teasing, "I was just investing in a future art superstar. Better to get in early, right?"

Tom couldn't hold back a laugh, though he could feel the prick of tears in his eyes again. "Still... Thank you. I wouldn't have been able to go without you. This means... more than I can even say."

Chris's grin softened into something more sincere, his gaze steady. "I meant what I said, Tom. I'd do anything to help you succeed."

Tom felt his chest tighten, words failing him as he met Chris's gaze. It was like he was seeing something unspoken pass between them, a deeper connection than he'd allowed himself to hope for.

"Oh," Chris added casually, breaking the silence, "I'll be in China around the same time, actually. Doing some filming nearby, so I figured I'd book you a room at the same resort where I'm staying. Hope you don't mind five-star accommodations."

Tom's eyes widened, and he couldn't suppress the laugh that bubbled up. "Are you serious? You're doing all this just so I don't end up in some dodgy hostel?"

"Exactly," Chris replied, his grin widening. "I'm just looking out for my favorite artist, that's all."

Tom felt a surge of warmth that left him almost speechless. He knew Chris cared about him, but this was something beyond kindness or generosity—it felt genuine, personal. He looked away for a moment, swallowing down the emotions swirling within him, and then looked back at the screen.

"Chris... I don't even know what to say. I... I don't know what I'd do without you."

Chris's face softened, and for a moment, he looked at Tom with a warmth so genuine it nearly took Tom's breath away. "You don't have to say anything, Tom," he said, his voice gentle. "Just keep being you. That's... that's all I need."

There was a long silence, the air thick with something that felt vulnerable and raw, and Tom found himself leaning into it, feeling safe in the quiet.

Finally, Chris spoke again, his voice low. "You're the most precious thing in my life right now, Tom. Can't imagine being without you."

Tom's heart pounded, his cheeks flushing at the words, a warm rush spreading through him. He could only manage a shy smile, a little flustered as he tried to process the weight of Chris's confession. No one had ever said anything like that to him before, and it felt almost overwhelming.

After a moment, Tom cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Chris. I... I feel the same."

They didn't say much after that, each lost in the quiet comfort of each other's presence. Tom lay back against his pillows, watching Chris on the screen as his own eyes grew heavy. He could feel his heartbeat slowing, lulled by the sound of Chris's voice as they traded soft, sleepy murmurs.

Eventually, as they drifted off, Tom heard Chris's gentle "Goodnight, Tom," barely audible, as if he were right there beside him.

"Goodnight, Chris," he whispered, letting his eyes close, feeling an immense sense of peace wash over him. Even as he drifted to sleep, he knew he'd never felt so close to someone, or so safe. And for now, that was all he needed.