Days turned into weeks, and Milo's feelings for Victor only seemed to deepen. Every time he was near Victor, he found himself captivated, lost in the smallest things Victor did. The way he would focus intently on something when he worked, his thoughtful expressions when he listened, and even his light laughter—all these little things were starting to make Milo feel like he was stepping into something he could never step out of.
It started with little moments here and there. Like the way Milo would glance over at Victor while they were working, or how he'd catch himself lingering over their brief touches, feeling a rush that he didn't quite understand.
One morning, Victor stopped by Milo's studio, as he often did, to see how his latest painting was coming along. The moment he entered, Milo felt his heart race, like it always did when he was around Victor. Today, Victor had brought coffee for both of them. He handed one to Milo with a casual smile.
"Thought you might need a caffeine boost," Victor said, grinning as he sat on the couch.
Milo managed a smile, feeling warmth spread through him as he took the cup. "Thanks, Victor. You always know what I need," he murmured, more to himself than to Victor, though he hoped his voice didn't betray the depth of what he truly felt.
Victor chuckled. "Well, I've been around long enough to pick up on a few things. Besides, you've been working nonstop on this piece." He gestured to the large, nearly completed canvas leaning against the easel—a mythical painting of a nine-tailed fox in a beautiful forest.
Milo nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Yeah, I'm close to finishing it. Just a few more details."
Victor moved closer, standing beside Milo as they both looked at the painting. "You know, I don't understand how you do it," he said softly, admiration in his voice. "You bring these… feelings to life on the canvas. It's like the fox has a story, a life of its own."
Milo smiled, staring at his work but sneaking a glance at Victor. "Maybe it's because I paint what I feel," he said quietly.
Victor raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"Just… you know, sometimes it's easier to put emotions into art than into words. So, when I paint something, I'm giving a part of myself to it. Maybe that's why it feels alive."
Victor's gaze softened, and he placed a hand on Milo's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "That's… incredible, Milo. You have a real gift." He smiled, his eyes warm and full of something Milo couldn't quite decipher. "I'm glad I get to see your work up close."
Milo's cheeks turned pink, and he quickly looked away, embarrassed at how deeply Victor's words affected him. Every kind thing Victor said felt like another step down a road he wasn't sure he could handle. He couldn't fall for him any more than he already had—but every interaction, every shared laugh, every gentle smile, was pulling him deeper.
***
Later that evening, Mr. Henry invited Milo to join them for dinner, as he often did. They'd been having these casual meals together more frequently, with Mr. Henry welcoming Milo like family, and Victor always making him feel at ease.
Milo sat across from Victor at the dinner table, stealing glances as they ate, his heart pounding with each stolen look. He admired Victor's calm confidence, his kindness, and the way he always made everyone feel heard and understood. To anyone else, this was just a normal dinner, but to Milo, it felt like he was watching Victor through a lens that only he could see.
"So, Milo," Mr. Henry began, pulling Milo from his thoughts, "any big plans with your art? I see you working so hard every day."
Milo smiled, glancing at Victor. "I guess I just want people to feel something when they look at my work. Maybe even find some peace in it."
"That's beautiful," Victor said, his voice soft. "Art that brings peace… that's something special."
Milo felt his heart squeeze, and he quickly looked down at his plate, hoping his expression wasn't giving away his feelings. "Thanks, Victor," he managed, trying to sound casual, though he was anything but.
After dinner, Milo found himself alone in his room, thinking about the evening. He let out a sigh, feeling the weight of his emotions. He knew he should be more careful; he was getting too close, feeling too much. But how could he stop? Victor's kindness, his genuine nature, his warmth—they were all pulling him in, making it impossible to put up any walls.
***
That night, unable to sleep, Milo went out onto his terrace, the cool night air grounding him as he stared up at the stars. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the ache in his chest that had been growing with each passing day.
He whispered softly to the night, "Why can't I stop thinking about him?" He glanced up at the moon, seeking solace. "I know this is wrong… forbidden. He'd never feel the same way, and even if he did, I could never let him know. But… how am I supposed to ignore this?"
Milo's thoughts drifted back to Victor's small gestures—how he brought him coffee, or the way he listened so intently to his thoughts on art. Each memory was like a small flame, burning brighter and making it harder to deny what he felt.
***
The next day at the office, Milo tried to focus on his work, but it was impossible not to think about Victor. When he spotted Victor talking with another colleague, Milo's heart fluttered. Victor looked over and gave Milo a wave, smiling in that friendly, easygoing way that always made Milo feel seen.
Milo raised a hand in return, feeling his heart beat faster as Victor approached. "Hey, how's the new project coming along?" Victor asked, his tone casual.
"Oh, good. I'm just… figuring out the details," Milo replied, hoping his voice sounded steady.
Victor nodded, his eyes kind and encouraging. "I'm sure it'll turn out amazing. You've got that magic touch with your work."
Milo couldn't help but smile, his heart swelling at Victor's words. "Thanks, Victor. That means a lot."
They chatted for a while about work, sharing a few laughs as they swapped stories about their respective projects. To Victor, it was just a friendly conversation, but to Milo, it was another reminder of how much he was falling for him. Every word, every laugh, every gentle touch felt like another thread tying him closer to Victor, no matter how hard he tried to resist.
When Victor left to handle another task, Milo found himself standing there, staring at the spot where Victor had been, feeling a pang of longing. He quickly shook his head, telling himself to focus. But it was easier said than done.
***
That evening, alone once more, Milo found himself back on the terrace, gazing up at the stars. He felt like he was falling into a whirlpool of emotions he couldn't control, swept up in a current he couldn't fight.
"Why do you have to be so perfect, Victor?" he murmured to the night, feeling the weight of his own confession settle over him. "You're everything I never thought I'd find, and I can't even tell you how I feel. I wish I could just… stop this. But I can't. I'm already in too deep."
Milo's hand clenched around the railing, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he could never let Victor know. It was too risky, too complicated. And yet, as he stood there under the moonlight, he realized something undeniable—Victor had become his whole world, whether he liked it or not.
As he stared out into the night, Milo knew that his feelings weren't going to fade. He was in love with Victor, and no matter how painful it was to keep it to himself, he couldn't imagine ever letting go.
***