the artist | haobin

Chapter Four

"I left my parents' house a couple of years ago," he finally disclosed. "I wanted to find my own path, my own sense of freedom."

Hanbin nodded, understanding that there were untold layers to the story. He respected his privacy, recognizing that sometimes the weight of personal experiences couldn't be neatly summarized in a single conversation.

"I needed to explore the world, to discover who I truly am." he continued, his face bearing traces.

A faint smile played upon the boy's lips, his curiosity mirrored in his eyes as he directed his attention towards Hanbin's surroundings. The canvases, brushes, and sketches scattered around the room spoke of a creative spirit, revealing glimpses of the raven's artistic endeavors.

"Are you a painter?" Zhanghao inquired, his voice filled with genuine interest. His gaze lingered on the vibrant strokes of color that adorned the walls, as if seeking to unravel the depths of his artistic soul.

Hanbin's own smile widened, surprised by his observant nature. "Yes," he replied, a hint of pride lacing his word.

As he spoke, his eyes roamed over the art that surrounded them, his love for his craft palpable in the way his voice reverberated with warmth and enthusiasm. Each canvas told a story, a piece of his heart etched onto the surface through colors and brushstrokes.

Zhanghao's gaze was drawn to a particular painting adorned with delicate hues of baby pink and sage green. The canvas seemed to exude a gentle serenity, capturing his attention and beckoning him closer. Intrigued by the soft palette and ethereal strokes, he found himself transfixed by the artwork's subtle beauty.

As he leaned in, his eyes traced the intricate brushwork that seemed to dance across the canvas, creating a mesmerizing tapestry of colors and textures. The soft pastel shades blended harmoniously, evoking a sense of tranquility and grace.

His fingers instinctively reached out, yearning to trace the contours of the artwork, to feel the brushstrokes beneath his touch. He marveled at the artist's ability to convey emotions through the interplay of colors and the gentle flow of lines. It was as if the painting held a secret language, a silent conversation only he could understand.

Turning to the said painter, his eyes glimmered with a newfound appreciation. "Your paintings are breathtaking," he confessed, his voice filled with awe.

"You know, I've been struggling with my inspiration lately," Hanbin confessed, his voice tinged with a touch of wistfulness. "I've created countless paintings, but they all felt empty, lacking the spark that used to drive me. I had lost my way as an artist."

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his artistic struggles. Yet, a glimmer of hope danced in his eyes as he continued.

"But then, you came into my life," Hanbin admitted, his voice growing softer, almost reverent. "Your presence, your spirit, it awakened something within me. That painting," he gestured towards the baby pink and sage green artwork.

His eyes widened with surprise. "Wait, now I remember," he exclaimed, a smile spreading across his face. "I saw you at the beach a few months ago. I was there, tagging a mural on the wall, and our eyes met. Yeah, I do remember you."

Hanbin's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He had spent countless hours trying to find traces of the boy, searching for the artist who had captivated him on that fateful day at the beach. But now, in this moment of connection, he decided to keep his search a secret.

He didn't want to overwhelm him with his eagerness or make their encounter feel forced.

The words lingered on the tip of his tongue, yearning to escape and reveal the extent of his search. But he bit back the confession, opting for a more understated approach. It was not the time for confessions of his efforts or the lengths he had gone to find Zhanghao.

Instead, Hanbin offered a shy smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and curiosity. "It's incredible how our paths have crossed again," he said, his voice filled with genuine wonder.

Zhanghao's eyes held a glimmer of curiosity, as if sensing there was more beneath his words. But he didn't press further.

The raven's stomach let out a low rumble, reminding him of the morning's hunger that had been momentarily forgotten. With a warm smile, he turned to his guest and asked, "Are you hungry? Would you like something for breakfast?"

Zhanghao's face brightened, his eyes lighting up with gratitude. "That would be great," he replied, his voice filled with excitement. "I haven't had a proper breakfast in a while."

As they made their way to the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, its comforting scent awakening their senses. He opened the pantry and retrieved a basket filled with an assortment of pastries—croissants, muffins, and cinnamon rolls. The scent of buttery flakiness and sweet cinnamon filled the room, creating an irresistible temptation.

With careful hands, Hanbin arranged the pastries on a beautifully decorated platter, a colorful array of treats that beckoned to be enjoyed. He placed it on the table, along with cups for coffee and a selection of spreads and jams.

They sat down together, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared appreciation. Hanbin poured coffee into the delicate cups, the aroma enveloping the room and adding to the cozy atmosphere.

Hanbin couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment as he watched Zhanghao savor each bite.

His curiosity sparked as he gazed at him across the breakfast table. With a gentle smile, he inquired, "Do you have any plans for today? I was wondering if you'd be interested in helping me with something."

The other's eyes widened with intrigue, his own curiosity piqued. "I don't have any specific plans," he replied. "What do you need my help with?"

Hanbin's gaze drifted towards the corner of the room where his art supplies were neatly arranged. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before explaining, "I've been wanting to practice painting people, capturing their emotions and expressions. I thought it would be a great opportunity if you'd be willing to pose for me."

Zhanghao's brows furrowed slightly, contemplating the proposition. After a brief pause, a playful smile tugged at his lips. "Sure, why not?" he responded, his voice laced with a touch of excitement. "I've never been a model before."