Afternoon sun streamed through the windows of the studio, sending warm golden slashes across the floor. Noah worked in silence, stirring paint, the scent of turpentine in the air. The silence between them had become more common recently—filled not with tension, but something weightier. Fear. Uncertainty.
Kai leaned against the doorframe, observing Noah working. He loved these moments—Noah engrossed in his universe, hair disheveled, paint smudged on his cheek like warpaint. But today was different. He couldn't get the feeling that Noah was keeping something from him.
His gaze wandered to Noah's bag lying by the corner. It was half-open. Inside was a creased envelope, edges bent slightly, like it had been opened and shut a hundred times. His name was scrawled on the front.
Kai paused—but curiosity and concern propelled him forward. He took hold of the envelope, pulling it out carefully.
"Noah?" he whispered.
Noah stiffened, brush suspended halfway through the stroke. "Hmm?"
