It was a rare off day, and Milo finally had the chance to make the studio feel like his own. With a wide smile, he took in the high ceilings, the walls lined with supplies, and the natural light streaming in. He spent the morning carefully unpacking his belongings, placing his favorite brushes, pigments, and personal sketches around the room, transforming it from a blank canvas into a space that felt distinctly his.
As he settled his tools and arranged his canvases, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. This is it, he thought to himself. A place to really make my mark. The thrill of working with Kingsley Industries—despite its complicated circumstances with Victor—fueled him with fresh determination.
By the time he was finished, Milo took a step back, admiring the space. He felt a strange sense of calm and satisfaction, like he was finally where he was meant to be.
The next day, Milo arrived early at the studio, eager to start working. He lost himself in his art, fully focused, his movements swift and sure as he brought each stroke of the brush to life. The hours slipped by unnoticed as he became absorbed in his work, a feeling he had missed for far too long.
Occasionally, he could feel a watchful presence and knew it was Victor, monitoring the camera he had set up outside the studio. Milo hadn't exactly agreed with Victor's desire to place one inside, and after a tense discussion, Victor had reluctantly relented, leaving the inside free of surveillance. Still, he's keeping an eye on me, Milo thought, both amused and slightly irritated.
Meanwhile, Victor himself found his gaze often drawn to the screen showing the view outside Milo's studio door. There was something captivating about Milo's dedication, the way he seemed so completely at ease with himself in that creative zone. He didn't quite understand his own interest—it was supposed to be just another part of the business deal. And yet, every now and then, he found himself glancing at that screen, as if drawn to the scene it displayed.
Later in the day, news reached Milo that Mr. Henry Kingsley had returned from his business tour. Moments after, he heard footsteps and looked up to see Henry entering his studio, a warm smile spreading across his face as he took in the transformed space.
"Milo, I just got back, and I had to come see how you've settled in," Henry said, extending his hand for a friendly shake. His presence radiated the same comforting kindness that had initially encouraged Milo to join Kingsley Industries.
"Mr. Kingsley!" Milo exclaimed, genuinely pleased. "I'm so glad you're back. Thank you so much for this space… I still can't quite believe it's real." He shook Henry's hand with gratitude, his words sincere.
Henry's eyes crinkled at the corners, pleased. "Please, call me Henry. And I'm glad to see you're making it your own. I knew from the moment we talked that this was the right decision."
Milo smiled, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. "You don't know how much that means to me. I've spent so long working in cramped rooms… but this? This feels like a dream."
Henry chuckled, glancing around with appreciation. "Well, dreams need a good space to grow, Milo. You deserve every inch of it. And more, to be honest. I've always believed that talent like yours shouldn't be hidden—it should have all the room it needs to breathe."
Milo's expression softened as he listened. Henry's words felt genuine, and they filled him with a renewed sense of purpose. "Thank you, Henry. I'll work hard to live up to your faith in me."
Henry put a reassuring hand on Milo's shoulder. "I have no doubt you will. And remember, if there's ever anything you need—materials, adjustments, anything at all—just ask. This place should feel like home."
Milo nodded, touched by the offer. "Actually, there is something…" He hesitated, unsure if he should mention it. "It's… about Victor."
Henry raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently. "Go on," he encouraged.
Milo took a deep breath. "I don't want to sound ungrateful, but… Victor seems a bit tense around me. I understand this was originally his project, and I respect that. I just don't want to cause any unnecessary tension for you or for him."
Henry gave a knowing smile. "Ah, Victor. He's… complicated, but I wouldn't take his attitude to heart. My son is driven by ambition—sometimes to the point where he forgets that people aren't projects to manage." He chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "But give him time. I think he'll come to see your talent, just as I do."
Milo couldn't help but relax at Henry's response. "I hope so," he said, smiling back. "Thank you again, Henry. I feel incredibly lucky to be here."
"Trust me, Milo, the pleasure is ours." Henry glanced around, satisfied with the setup and with Milo's clear excitement. "Now, I'll leave you to it. But remember—this studio is just the beginning. I expect to see great things from you."
With a final, encouraging pat on the shoulder, Henry left, leaving Milo standing there, deeply moved. For the first time in a long time, he felt not just supported, but genuinely seen for who he was and what he could offer.
As he turned back to his canvas, a renewed energy sparked within him, driving his brush across the canvas with purpose. This is where I belong, he thought, and for the first time, he truly believed it.
***