Kael was completely mesmerized at the exhibition. Every painting pulled him in, every color sparked something inside him. For a while, it felt like the world outside didn't exist — no Zayden, no confusion, no pain. Just art.
He didn't even notice how long he had stayed until his legs began to ache. By the time he reached home, he was too tired to think about anything else. He dropped onto his bed and fell asleep almost instantly, not even bothering to eat properly.
But the next morning was different.
Kael woke up with a sudden rush of energy. Ideas, images, colors — all of them surged into his mind as if they had been waiting for the right moment. He grabbed his sketchbook and started drawing, letting the inspiration flow through him. Page after page filled up — faces, scenes, emotions — everything he had bottled up now spilled out in his art.
For the first time in days, Kael smiled honestly.
Later, he called Adrian and excitedly told him everything — the exhibition, the ideas, the sudden inspiration. Adrian listened, his voice warm.
"That's great, Kael. Really. I'm glad your spark is coming back."
Kael felt lighter after the call.
Hours passed without Kael realizing. When he finally checked the time, it was already late at night. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten a proper meal all day.
He threw on a jacket and walked to the nearest convenience store. He picked up some light snacks — noodles, chocolate bread, a drink — something simple to fill his stomach.
On his way back to his apartment, he hummed softly, feeling strangely peaceful.
But the moment he turned the corner near his building, his steps froze.
A familiar figure stood under the streetlight.
Zayden.
Kael stopped walking. His breath hitched.
"Zayden? What are you doing here?" Kael asked, eyes widening. His heart started beating faster — not from excitement, but from all the emotions he had been trying to avoid.
Zayden looked up slowly. He looked exhausted, his eyes darker than usual, hair messy as if he hadn't slept.
"Um… Kael," he said quietly, voice low and tired. "Can we talk?"
Kael swallowed hard. Part of him wanted to turn around and run. But another part of him — the softer part — hesitated.
His grip tightened around his convenience store bag.
He didn't understand Zayden's expression. It wasn't cold. It wasn't arrogant. It was… desperate.
Kael looked away for a moment, conflicted. But in the end… he nodded.
"…Fine. Let's talk."
They walked together toward Kael's apartment, the silence between them heavy and tense. Kael's steps were slow, reluctant. Zayden's were steady but tired.
When Kael opened the door to his home and stepped inside, he felt his heart pounding again.
This talk… would change something.
He could feel it.