The studio my father made for me was spacious, almost too large for one person. The floor was polished oak, smooth and cool underfoot, reflecting the light in warm, honeyed tones. The white walls were pristine, untouched, offering a blank canvas that seemed to amplify every sound, every movement. They stood tall and stark, creating an expansive, almost reverent space where the smallest details felt significant.

The tall glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, inviting the outside world in. Right now, they framed the same pretty sunset. Golden light filtered through the glass in ethereal streams like honey flowing off a jar. It felt serene. It felt otherworldly. Like the studio had been touched by something divine.

In the corner, the piano sat-they had crafted it to perfection, from the finest wood to the deep ebony shade on the surface, contrasting beautifully against the brightness of the room. I had requested it specifically, knowing you would appreciate its elegance. I knew I'd chosen the right spot for it when you sat there, and the sun bathed you in its golden glow, turning you into something almost mythical, a figure from a dream.

I stretched on the ballet barre, my movements slow and deliberate, my eyes on you. You were in your element, pulling out your music sheets with that calm focus I had come to admire. Your fingers danced across the keys as you played a few random tunes, testing the sound, the feel. The melodies echoed softly through the studio, filling the space with a sense of anticipation.

Finally, I moved to the centre of the room, standing tall as our eyes met. There was a brief moment of stillness, where everything else seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us in that golden light.

"Ready?" your voice was steady.

I nodded, a small smile playing on my lips. "Ready."

In the monochrome world of the studio, where shadows and light danced along the polished floor, I was blue. A quiet, muted blue that seeped into every corner of the room, mingling with the soft hum of the piano.

The keys beneath your fingers sang a melody that wrapped around my soul, coaxing my body into motion. Each note you played was a whisper, a secret meant for me alone. And I let it seep into my bones.

The way you played was different now. Subtle, but I felt it. The way your fingers lingered on certain keys, drawing out the notes like a caress, or the way the tempo slowed as if you wanted to stretch this moment between us, to make it last just a little longer. And every time I responded, my movements echoed the emotions you infused into the music.

Whenever I danced these days, it was no longer just a performance. It was an offering. A love letter, I'd call it, written in the language of movement and breath, of glances and fleeting touches.

My body spoke the words I couldn't say aloud, words that felt too fragile to voice in the silence of the studio. So I let them spill out in the curve of my arm, in the arch of my back, in the way I turned and spun, always returning to you.

You never looked at me directly. Your gaze was always on the piano, on the keys, as if you were afraid that meeting my eyes would break something. Was it my heart that you were afraid of breaking? I would have been glad if you did. It couldn't have been worse than the silence.

You never looked at me directly. But I felt your attention, the way your eyes lingered on me, the way your music shifted to follow my lead, to match my rhythm. And I wondered if your fingers longed to touch more than just the keys, if they yearned to trace the contours of my skin the way they glided across the piano. In those moments, we were perfectly in sync, as if we were the only two people in the world.

I didn't know what that shadow was in the corner. It was a muted grey, the same colour as the edges of our moments. A reminder that this was fleeting, that it existed only in this space, in this time. Outside, in the harsh light of day, the lines between us were too stark, too defined. There, we could pretend that your world was black and white, and I was the blue that filled the space between.

Every day, I felt a little more, the blue in me deepening with every touch of your music. But I knew that just as surely as autumn gave way to winter, this too would end. The music would stop, the dance would cease, and the grey would settle in, cold and unyielding. And yet, I danced. Because in those moments, when I was spinning in your music, I could believe that the blue was enough to keep the grey at bay.

In black and white, I was blue. And when I danced to your music, I was home.

We danced till night. We danced till the sun was gone. We danced and it began to storm. The rain came down hard, the sky splitting open. We danced until we could dance no more, until our bodies ached with exhaustion. You played the piano, and I moved with the music, lost in the moment, in the way your fingers found the keys and made them sing.

The world outside could have been ending, but it didn't matter. Not then, not with you. It was late, so late that time seemed irrelevant, a forgotten thing. The room was dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamps and the occasional flash of lightning. The rhythm of the storm outside became the rhythm of our dance, each step echoing the pounding of the raindrops against the windows.

Eventually, the music slowed, and I found myself in your arms, the remnants of our dance lingering in the air like a whispered secret. We didn't speak, there was no need. The silence between us was full, rich with the unspoken words we had shared through every note, every movement. You held me close, and I leaned into you, feeling the warmth of your body against mine.

We moved to the couch, settling down together as the rain drummed a lullaby on the roof. You wrapped the blanket around us, tucking me in. I nestled against you, my head resting on your chest, listening to the steady beat of your heart. It was a sound I was beginning to find comfort in, a sound that felt like home.

"Feel better?" you asked, your arm slipping around my shoulders, pulling me closer.

I sighed, content, my eyes growing heavy. "A lot better."

"That's good. That's what matters." I could feel you smile above me, warm and genuine. Your hand traced lazy circles on my back, the gentle touch soothing and intimate.

"Thank you," I mumbled, trying my best to keep my eyes open.

"For what?" you replied, your voice soft, your breath warm against my hair. I could feel you breathing, slow and steady, your chest rising and falling beneath me.

"For everything."

You smiled again, your expression serene, your eyes reflecting a tenderness that made my heart flutter. "I don't do thank-yous," you chuckled, the sound vibrating gently through your chest.

"What do you want then?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper, my lips brushing against the fabric of your shirt.

"A kiss, maybe," you said, your tone light but that glint in your eyes told me otherwise.

Before I could fully register what you had said, you leaned in, and I felt the brush of your lips against mine. Your lips were warm, soft, and just a little chapped from the cold, which only made the kiss feel more real, more intimate. There was a sweetness to it, a promise of something deeper.

You tasted like pure, unfiltered love. You felt like home. We fit in like two pieces of a puzzle. I let myself sink into the sensation of your mouth moving against mine with no reservation.

As we pulled away, our foreheads touched, and I could see the soft glow of contentment in your eyes. The world outside was a blur of grey and black, the storm clouds swirling in the sky, but inside, everything was calm, serene.

I felt your breath against my skin, warm and steady, and I knew that sleep was close, pulling me under like a gentle wave. I didn't fight it. I let it take me, secure in the knowledge that you were there, that we were together, that this moment, this night, would stay with me long after the storm had passed.

I didn't know where the storm would go, and honestly I didn't care. I didn't care to think about what the morning would bring. All that mattered was the here and now, the way you held me, the way our breathing synced, the way the night seemed to stretch on forever, just for us.

***

I should have seen it coming -- the way my mother would gradually realise how out of place I was in her meticulously crafted world. The life she had painted in shades of reds and gold -- vivid and expensive -- where every move I made was calculated to fit her vision slipping out of my focus.

I should have known better than to expect that someone who despised my colours would ever embrace yours. Our blues didn't match hers.

She didn't like the colours of you. She didn't like the colours of us.

"You're not to see him anymore."

Her voice cut through the quiet of the room, shattering the calm before the storm. She had come to witness how we had been wrapped in our own world, fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the storm to come. She thought it was shameful. The perfect son who loved men was unacceptable to her. It was wrong, illicit, absurd. I was meant to breed an heir with a woman, not cuddle with a man of lowly standing.

I stared at her, disbelief freezing me in place. "What?"

"You heard me." Her tone was icy, her expression as unreadable as ever. "This-whatever this is between you and that boy-it ends now."

A chill ran down my spine, the weight of her words settling heavily on my chest. "You can't be serious."

"I've never been more serious in my life, Ahen," she replied, her eyes hard, unyielding. "This isn't the life I wanted for you. This isn't who you're supposed to be."

"Who I'm supposed to be?" I echoed, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. "You mean someone who fits neatly into your perfect little world? Someone who pretends to be something they're not just to make you happy?"

"You're not to see him anymore," she repeated, her voice like steel. "I won't have it. You're my son, and you'll live the life I've worked so hard to give you. Not this-this...aberration."

"An aberration?" I could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. "Garret is not an aberration! He's–"

"He's a mistake," she cut in sharply, her gaze piercing through me. "A phase. Something you'll look back on and regret. You're throwing your future away for-"

"For someone I care about," I interrupted, my voice rising in defiance. "For someone who makes me happy. Why can't you understand that?"

Her expression remained unyielding, her eyes betraying no hint of understanding. "You'll regret it," she said quietly, almost as if she were speaking to herself. "You'll regret it when you see the life you could have had slipping through your fingers."

"I'll regret it huh?" I echoed, my voice dripping with scorn. Tears stung my eyes, and I clenched my fists tightly, the pent-up anger coursing through me. "I already regret it. I do. I regret coming here. I regret falling into your trap. This perfect little life-it's for you, Mom. It's not for me. It's expensive and colourful, but I feel dull and colourless. I wish I'd bled out. I wish the injuries I had bore to build my world where I didn't have a mother in it ended me before I ever came to be this!" I shouted, my voice breaking with raw emotion.

But my mother didn't flinch. She met my gaze, her eyes unwavering. "I hope you die before you see me dead, then." Her voice was cold, her words final as she stormed out of the room.

I felt my heart shatter. I ran after her, grabbing her arm. She was me in many ways than one.

"Mom!"

"Will you be happy then? Free from me with that boy who seems to give you life? Will you be alright?" Her voice cracked with the weight of her own tears.

"Mom!"

"You're not to see him anymore," she repeated, her voice cold and final. "And that's the end of it."

****

I shouldn't have met you that night. My mind was a storm of confusion and heartache, and the alcohol that coursed through my veins only worsened the disarray. I stumbled through the haze, seeking refuge in you, though I couldn't have said why. My mother's rejection still echoed in my ears, a harsh reminder of the world I was losing, and all I wanted was to drown it out. Or rather, drown in you before the world we built completely disappear.

When I arrived at your door, dishevelled and barely coherent, you looked at me with a mix of surprise and concern. I could see it in your eyes-a silent question, an unspoken plea for an explanation I couldn't provide.

"Are you alright?" you asked, your voice edged with care.

I didn't have the words. The pain inside me was too raw, too jumbled. I only knew that I wanted to lose myself in you, to find some semblance of solace in you.

"I-I just-missed you," I managed to slur. It was hazy, but I saw the way your brow raised, confusion mingled with concern.

"The alcohol missed me," you corrected.

"Whatever, dude. You need me or not?" I lost my balance, and you quickly moved to steady me.

"You're gonna pass out any minute now," you said, your voice heavy with worry. Your eyes searched mine, and I saw the genuine concern etched in them.

"Then be fast. Show me how much you care for me. Show me what I am to you," I demanded, my voice a mix of desperation and defiance.

You looked at me, conflicted. The moment stretched between us, thick with tension and uncertainty. I could see you wrestling with your own emotions, your concern battling against the desire to help. I couldn't wait. The need to bridge the chasm between us was overwhelming.

Before you could react, I closed the distance between us, my lips crashing onto yours in a desperate kiss. It was clumsy, fueled by a mix of need and inebriation. You pulled back almost immediately, your face a mask of worry.

"You're not alright," you said, your voice gentle but firm.

"This is the only way you can make things alright if that's what you're worried about," I argued, trying to close the gap again.

You pulled back once more, shaking your head. I looked at you, feeling a surge of frustration and hopelessness. You looked at me, your expression softening with a mixture of resolve and uncertainty. 

"I don't know what this is, but if it helps you, I'll give you what you need."

And then, you kissed me. It wasn't gentle. It was fierce, urgent, as if you were trying to make up for all the moments lost, all the words left unsaid. Your lips moved against mine with a fervour that matched my own desperation.

You guided me inside, and before I could catch my breath, you pressed me against the wall. Your hands framed my face, your body impossibly close to mine as your lips claimed me once more, rough and unrelenting. Heat radiated from every point of contact, and I could feel your resolve intertwining with the unspoken emotions hanging in the air between us.

"Jump," you murmured against my lips. Your hands slipped under my thighs, urging me to wrap my legs around you. 

Instinct took over, and I complied, feeling the strength of you as you carried me effortlessly towards the bed. The world blurred around us, my heart hammering in my chest as you lowered me down with a gentleness that contradicted the intensity of the moment.

Lowering me down, you hesitated for the briefest of moments, your body hovering over mine as though you were afraid of breaking me. The moonlight filtered in through the window, outlining your features in soft silver. Your gaze locked onto mine, intense and searching, and for a moment, everything slowed. I didn’t want to bother with words, rather I tugged you down, crashing my lips against yours, to reassure you that I was okay, that I needed this. 

“I love you…” I murmured.

“I love you too, Ahen.”

Then you’re back at kissing me again, softer this time, as if the weight of the moment had shifted. Your lips moved from mine, trailing down my jaw to my neck, lingering there just long enough to make me shiver. Each kiss left a spark, a fire kindling under my skin as you traced a deliberate path downward.

The room filled with the sound of clothes being discarded piece by piece, every movement deliberate and laden with meaning. A part of me screamed this wasn't how it should be-this wasn't right-but it was too late. The air between us was charged, the pull between us impossible to resist.

Your lips travelled over my exposed skin, brushing over the sensitive peaks of my chest and moving lower, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You paused just above my waistband, your hands steady, your voice soft as you whispered, "You're so beautiful baby."

The words hung in the air, weighted and sincere. The moonlight painted silver streaks across your face as your gaze met mine. One hand tugged lightly at my trouser belt, the question silent but clear.

I pressed my hands to my eyes, bracing myself as I felt the fabric loosen and slip away. Words weren’t unnecessary anymore. There was only us, tangled in the moonlight, balancing on the edge of something that could never quite be undone. And there’s so little words could do compared to actions anyways.

***

The dawn began to break and the light creeping through the curtains felt like an intrusion. The night's passion had faded, leaving behind only the clarity of separation. The separation that you were blissfully unaware of. 

We lay there, bodies entwined but emotionally isolated. The warmth we had shared was replaced by an overwhelming sense of emptiness and resignation.The quiet aftermath of a storm of a night lay around us. Slowly but steadily, your medicine was working on me. But the silence between us was still deafening. 

Tears I had held back began to escape. I tried to hide them, but the raw grief was too powerful. Your eyes were on me, sad and confused. You stroke my hair gently but the action only deepened the void I felt inside.

"This wasn't supposed to happen this way," I whispered, my voice cracking at the last few syllables.

You didn't say anything. Instead, you held me tighter. Like you were afraid the moment you'd let go I'd crash. “It’s okay Ahen… It’s okay.” You placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Talk to me when you’re ready, yeah?"

"I will." I promised between sniffles.