Kai wasn't kidding when he said that there was a lot to clean up in the studio.

"This was all Taya's mess. I tried cleaning this up, but even this is too much. And I have several commissions to complete too," Kai said as he showed Luca around the room that Wei made a mess out of.

The air in the studio hung heavy with the scent of ink and the chaotic aftermath of artistic frenzy. Luca's eyes widened at the sight of scattered papers, spilled ink bottles, and half-finished canvases. Kai, with a weary sigh, pointed to the epicenter of the creative disaster.

"How did this happen?" Luca asked with horror as he took in the entire room.

"Taya was let loose," Kai sighed as he handed cleaning supplies to Luca.

Luca took the cleaning supplies with a resigned smile. Even in the chaos, he could see glimpses of Wei's vibrant energy splashed across the room.

A half-finished portrait, bold and expressive, stared down from the wall, a defiant streak of blue echoing the ink splattered on the floor.

"He really went for it, didn't he?" Luca chuckled, dipping a rag into the cleaning solution.

"He did," Kai admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's like a hurricane of creativity just swept through here. And you know what? It's kinda... beautiful."

Luca paused, taking a moment to truly look. He saw not mess, but raw emotion, unfiltered passion. He saw Wei, laid bare on canvas and floor, his turmoil and brilliance swirling together in a chaotic dance.

"Yeah," Luca agreed, a spark of inspiration igniting in his eyes. "It is."

He started with the ink spills, the dark liquid surprisingly mesmerizing as it swirled across the floor. It became a ritual, each wipe a brushstroke erasing the remnants of Wei's storm, revealing the clean canvas beneath.

As he worked, Luca felt a tension loosening within him. The act of cleaning, of restoring order, became a metaphor for his own healing. He was wiping away the stains of pain, the debris of betrayal, making space for new beginnings.

The next couple of days turned Luca and Kai into unlikely comrades in the battle against the creative apocalypse.

They moved through the studio like a well-oiled machine, Kai the whirlwind of chaos, collecting scattered brushes and discarded palettes, and Luca the steady hand, cleaning and organizing with meticulous precision.

Beneath the surface of their task, a quiet understanding blossomed. Kai, usually the picture of mischievous glee, revealed a surprising vulnerability, confessing his own struggles with Wei's erratic behavior.

He spoke of sleepless nights, hushed arguments, and the ever-present fear of another explosive outburst.

As they cleaned and confided, the studio transformed. Ink stains faded, canvases found their rightful places, and sunlight streamed through newly washed windows, illuminating the room in a hopeful glow.

Whenever Luca wasn't cleaning, he found himself assisting Kai in a multitude of ways. He'd become Kai's shadow, his right-hand man, his creative partner in crime.

Kai started posting more art content on social media and having Luca beside him helped a great deal.

Kai was able to properly focus on creating artwork, while Luca controlled the social media aspect part. Luca helped Kai with reaching a larger audience than before as well as posting relatable content that not only showcased Kai as a person but also his artwork.

"Taya? I have a meeting to attend to. Is it possible to pick up a couple artworks from my place? I called Taya but he's not responding, and I need to deliver them but I forgot I have a meeting in a couple minutes and it's making me stressed out and-" Kai started spiraling as he got stressed over his work.

Luca placed a hand on Kai's shoulder, his touch a silent anchor in the whirlwind of Kai's anxiety.

"Breathe, Dae," he said, his voice low and soothing. "It's okay. We'll figure this out."

Kai took a shuddering breath, his gaze meeting Luca's. In that shared look, a wave of understanding passed between them.

"I'll take care of it," Luca said, his voice firm yet gentle. "Tell me the details. Address and what pieces need to be brought. I'll get them here on time, I promise."

Kai, his shoulders slumping with relief, rattled off the information, his voice shaky but grateful. Luca listened intently, taking mental notes, his mind already formulating a plan.

As Kai rushed off to his meeting, anxiety nipping at his heels, Luca went into action.

He grabbed his keys and ran over to his motorcycle. He first looked up the address on his phone before he turned on his bike.

The rumble of the engine vibrated beneath Luca's palms, a reassuring thrum that chased away any lingering anxiety from the days past.

He gripped the handlebars, his jacket flapping in the wind, and navigated the city streets with a familiar ease. The familiar cityscape blurred past, each turn a practiced maneuver, each stoplight a fleeting pause in the urban symphony.

It didn't take long before he arrived at the location. He found the apartment building nestled between a bustling bakery and a vintage clothing store.

Makes sense where Kai seems to be getting his weird fashion sense all of a sudden.

He hurried into the apartment building and made his way to Kai's apartment.

A jolt of surprise shot through Luca as he threw open the door to Kai's apartment. His gaze, searching for the art, landed squarely on the most unexpected sight: Wei.

Standing shirtless in the middle of the living room, Wei was a vision of sculpted muscle and sun-kissed skin. His dark hair was damp, strands plastered across his forehead, and a mischievous glint danced in his eyes.

The air hung heavy with the lingering scent of steam and something else, something primal and undeniably alluring.

Luca froze, caught in the headlights of Wei's sudden presence. The carefully crafted plan he'd built in his head, the mantra of efficiency and calm, crumbled like a sandcastle under a rogue wave.

For a moment, all he could do was stare. He took in the way the light painted golden streaks across Wei's back, the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin, the way the dark lines smoothed over the planes of Wei's back.

The dark lines of a tattoo?

"Luca?" Wei asked, as he looked confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Dae was spam calling you and freaking out," Luca explained, his voice surprisingly steady, "Makes sense though. You were taking a shower. Anyways, I'm here to pick up some of the artworks."

He kept his tone casual, professional even, trying to mask the turmoil brewing within him. He was Luca, the reliable friend, the calm in the storm, not some starry-eyed teenager mesmerized by a bare-chested ex.

He was trying to avoid looking right at Wei's shirtless body. It felt somewhat invasive and Luca is a man.

Who is attracted to other men.

And the man who he's looking at happens to be his ex.

The same ex who changed their relationship to become friends.

"Right," Wei said slowly, his gaze sweeping over Luca's face. "And you're here to... pick up some of the artworks?"

Luca nodded, his eyes darting around the room. He spotted the canvases propped against the wall, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the muted chaos of the sibling's apartment. He moved towards them, his back to Wei, trying to regain some semblance of control.

He could feel Wei's eyes on him, branding his skin with invisible touch. It was unnerving, yet strangely exhilarating.

The last time he felt it, it was with Theo, a spark that had flickered and died before it could truly ignite.

But Wei, shirtless and radiating post-shower heat, was throwing all his carefully constructed walls to the wind.

"Which ones?" Wei's voice came from behind him, closer now. Luca could practically feel his breath warm against his ear. He swallowed hard, his fingers trembling as he reached for a canvas.

"This one," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. "And the one with the..." he trailed off, his mind suddenly blank. He couldn't think with Wei so close, with the scent of him wrapping around him like a physical touch.

He grabbed another canvas, his fingers fumbling with the edge. He needed to get out of there, before he did something stupid, something that could shatter the fragile peace he'd built with both Kai and himself.

"That's all," he blurted out, his voice brittle with tension. "I, uh, I should go."

"Alright," Wei nodded as he was deep in thought.

Luca went to leave when he turned back and saw the full blown tattoo on Wei's back.

"That's..." Luca's voice trailed off, caught in his throat like a moth trapped in a spiderweb. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the very familiar tattoo that sprawled across Wei's back.

This design was something that he randomly doodled on an assignment a long time ago. Since he found it cute, he kept it within his sketchbook filled with terrible drawings from an art class he took his junior year.

"I don't know Taya. I mean it is a very common doodle," Luca could practically hear Lucy shrug through the phone.

"No you idiot, this doodle was mine. The string lights have letters if you look closely. The artist even replicated those," Luca hissed, wondering how someone could grab hands on an old doodle.

It wasn't that Luca minded that his quote on quote artwork was good enough to be tattooed. He didn't know who would dig through his stuff to find something made more than half a decade ago.

Lucy fell silent for a moment, absorbing Luca's revelation. "You drew this design several times but there's a different version that is still similar to this version and they got that version?"

Luca nodded, even though Lucy couldn't see him. "Exactly. It's uncanny."

"That's... bizarre," Lucy admitted. "I mean, how could someone even stumble upon that and connect it to you?"

"So it was you," Luca breathed, his voice barely a whisper. His gaze fixed on the intricate tattoo, a mirror image of his own long-forgotten doodle. The string lights, the delicate script – it was all there, rendered in vibrant ink on Wei's skin.

He knew he should look away, should break the unsettling gaze and retreat to the safe, familiar world he'd built. But something held him there, a magnetic pull stronger than logic or fear.

"Luca?" Wei's voice, hesitant, pulled him back from the brink. He turned, his heart thrumming against his ribs, his eyes searching Wei's face.

"I...need to go," Luca said as he carefully carried the artwork and ran out the door.

Luca stumbled out of the apartment, the heavy weight of the artwork nothing compared to the turmoil churning within him. The revelation of the tattoo, his own forgotten doodle etched onto Wei's back, had cracked open a dam of emotions he'd spent years suppressing.

He needed to go. He'd said it, acted on it, fled the echoing silence that had followed his confession.

But where was he going?

Back to the safe, familiar world he'd built?

That world had been like a crumbling facade now, its edges chipped and cracking, revealing the gaping holes.

He clutched the canvases tighter, the smooth surface a stark contrast to the swirling emotions in his chest. He'd come for art, but found a piece of himself he thought was lost.

A piece etched on Wei's back, whispered in the lines of a forgotten doodle, resurrected in the vibrant hues of a tattoo.

Luca brought the artwork safe and sound to Kai who was relieved.

"Taya? Are you alright?" Kai asked when he saw Luca.

"I'm fine, dae," he choked out, his voice raspy from emotions he couldn't yet articulate. "Just... a lot to process."

He couldn't bring himself to meet Kai's concerned gaze, not with the image of Wei's tattooed back seared into his own mind.

Kai, ever perceptive, saw the storm brewing beneath Luca's surface. He sat down beside him, a silent presence offering a safe haven. "Talk to me, Taya," he said gently. "What happened?"

"It's... nothing," Luca said, his voice tight. "Just a lot on my mind."

He couldn't tell Kai. Not yet. Not until he figured out the tangled mess of his own emotions.

"Alright Taya, but I'm here to listen," Kai said.

He looked around the familiar studio, his eyes finally focusing on the canvases leaning against the wall. They were more than just art now, they were possibilities, blank slates waiting for his brush.

He could paint Wei's vibrant chaos, his art a reflection of the storm within. He could paint himself, the hesitant lines of his own desires, the fear and longing intertwined. He could paint the past, the ghosts of shared dreams and whispered promises.

Or, he could paint the future, a canvas not yet touched, a world where Wei's tattoo wasn't a burden, but a bridge. A bridge back to forgotten dreams, a chance to rewrite their story.

He picked up a brush, the smooth wood warm against his calloused fingers. He felt a spark, a flicker of the artist he once was, the artist he could be again.

He dipped the brush in paint, a vibrant blue that mirrored the swirling depths of his emotions. He touched the canvas, a single stroke, tentative yet determined.

It wasn't perfect, this first stroke. It was messy, unsure, a reflection of his own fractured self. But it was a start. A starting line, a breath of courage, a promise to himself to face the truth, one brushstroke at a time.

He kept painting, ignoring the silence in the studio, ignoring the echo of Kai's unspoken question hanging in the air. He painted the pain, the anger, the confusion, swirling them into abstract shapes, letting the colors scream the words he couldn't speak.

As he painted, a calm settled over him, a quiet acceptance of the storm within. He wasn't just painting Wei's art anymore, he was painting himself, revealing the layers beneath the carefully constructed facade.

And with each stroke, the colors started to blend, the chaos finding a rhythm, the fragments forming a picture. It wasn't a picture of Wei, or of them, it was a picture of Luca, a man rediscovering his voice, his heart, his art.

He didn't know where this path would lead, whether it would be a triumphant return to Wei, a painful confirmation of their past, or something else entirely. But he knew he wasn't running anymore. He was standing, brush in hand, facing the canvas, facing himself, and facing the beautiful, messy truth of who he was.

And maybe, just maybe, in the process of painting his own story, he would find a way to paint a future with Wei, not as a forgotten doodle on his back, but as a vibrant masterpiece, co-created, shared, and cherished, brushstroke by brushstroke, until the last drop of color spilled onto the canvas, telling a story of love, resilience, and second chances, written in the language of their hearts.