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Chapter 3 - Chapter 2: The Man With No Name

Title: His Smile, My Curse

Lior didn't sleep that night.

He curled up on the edge of the couch, arms wrapped around his knees, eyes fixed on the man who sat silently across the room. Not moving. Not blinking. Just watching him with a calm, unwavering stare.

The painting still stood on the easel.

Still. Silent.

Except now its subject was real.

The man hadn't hurt him. Hadn't shouted. Hadn't tried anything weird. He'd asked once—quietly—if he could stay nearby. Lior hadn't answered, too stunned. So the man simply sat.

As if waiting for permission.

"Do you have a name?" Lior finally asked, voice hoarse.

The man tilted his head. "No. But I'd like one. From you."

"That's not normal."

"No," he agreed softly. "Neither is coming to life from a painting."

Fair.

Lior rubbed his eyes. "You said you waited for me. Why?"

The man's silver eyes flickered. "Because I remembered you."

"I've never seen you before in my life."

"But I've seen you. Always. You kept painting me. Every time you touched the canvas, I felt it. Like a string tugging me out of the dark."

Lior swallowed. "So what… you were just floating around somewhere?"

The man gave a rare smile—small and slightly sad. "I was forgotten. Not dead. Not living. Until you saw me."

Lior stood slowly, unsure if his legs would hold. "If I wanted you gone…"

"I would die," the man said simply.

Lior flinched.

"I don't want to die," he added, gently. "Especially now. Not after I've seen you."

Silence.

Then:

"I'll call you Aven," Lior said at last.

The man blinked. "Aven…" He repeated it like it was a sacred word.

"It means nothing," Lior lied. (He remembered reading it once. It meant 'desired' or 'longing.')

"I love it," Aven said. "Thank you."

His voice was warm, and Lior hated how his chest fluttered just a little.

"You're not staying," he muttered, turning away.

Aven's reply was soft.

"Then I'll wait until you let me."

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