FATED STROKES

The days passed, each one marked by the quiet sound of Milo's paintbrush as he worked in his studio. The once-vibrant laughter that filled the air whenever Victor visited now seemed a distant memory. Milo had thrown himself into his art with a new, almost obsessive intensity, using each stroke as a way to quiet his heart and mind.

It was easier this way, he told himself, to bury the feelings that had crept in so insidiously. The emotions were dangerous, distracting—making him feel vulnerable and exposed. So he chose to hide behind his art, creating a wall of canvases that he hoped would keep his heart safe.

One morning, as Milo was working on a new piece, he heard a soft knock on the studio door. His heart did an involuntary flip when he realized it was Victor, leaning against the doorway with a casual smile, hands in his pockets.

"Morning," Victor greeted, his voice warm. "Busy as ever, I see."

Milo forced a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, just… a lot to work on."

Victor took a step inside, his eyes roaming the studio. "You've been spending so much time here, Milo. I feel like I barely see you anymore."

Milo felt a pang of guilt but quickly buried it, keeping his eyes on the painting. "Just… trying to stay focused. Got a lot of projects piling up." The excuse felt thin, even to him, but he hoped it would be enough.

Victor watched him for a moment, a faint frown crossing his face. "I get it, but… don't forget to take breaks, okay? You're going to burn out at this rate."

Milo forced another smile and nodded, still avoiding Victor's gaze. "Thanks. I'll… I'll keep that in mind."

Victor seemed to hesitate, like he wanted to say something more, but after a beat, he just nodded, disappointment flickering in his eyes. "Alright. Well, don't work too hard, Milo."

As Victor left the studio, Milo released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The sadness in Victor's eyes had been hard to miss, and it tugged painfully at Milo's heart. But he knew this distance was necessary. The closer he was to Victor, the harder it became to control his emotions, to keep his feelings hidden.

The pattern repeated itself over the next few days. Whenever Victor would visit, Milo would keep his responses short, polite but distant. He'd make excuses about needing to finish a piece, or remind Victor that he didn't want any distractions. Each time, Victor would nod, his expression becoming a little more confused, a little more hurt. Yet Milo stayed firm, believing that this distance would eventually dull his feelings, that time would make things easier.

But as the days wore on, he found himself struggling. At night, when he was alone, his mind would drift back to Victor—his laugh, the way his eyes lit up when he was excited, the subtle warmth in his touch. Those memories clung to him like shadows, refusing to be brushed aside no matter how hard he tried.

One evening, while staring at an unfinished canvas, Milo sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He had barely made progress on his work, his thoughts constantly drifting back to Victor. He realized that keeping himself busy wasn't dulling his feelings; if anything, it was making him more aware of how deeply they ran.

The next morning, Milo was at the studio early, hoping to find solace in the quiet before anyone else arrived. He was painting when he heard footsteps approaching. He stiffened, already knowing who it was.

"Milo," Victor's voice was soft but insistent, and there was a hint of concern in his tone that Milo hadn't heard before.

Milo turned, quickly masking his emotions with a polite smile. "Hey, Victor."

Victor took a few steps closer, crossing his arms as he looked at Milo. "Are you avoiding me?"

The directness of the question caught Milo off guard, and for a moment, he struggled to find the words. "No… I'm just… really busy, that's all."

Victor's eyes narrowed slightly, not buying the excuse this time. "Milo, come on. I know you're dedicated to your work, but this feels different. Did I… did I do something wrong?"

The vulnerability in Victor's voice was almost too much for Milo to bear. He quickly shook his head, forcing a smile. "No, Victor, you didn't do anything wrong. I just… I need to focus. That's all."

Victor studied him for a long moment, as if searching for the truth in his expression. "You know, you don't have to push people away to stay focused. Whatever's going on, you don't have to deal with it alone."

Milo's heart ached at Victor's words, but he kept his face carefully neutral, refusing to let his feelings show. "Thanks, Victor. But I'm fine. Really."

Victor looked at him, disappointment clouding his features. "Alright, if that's what you want," he said quietly. "But I miss hanging out with you. I thought we were… I thought we were closer than this."

Milo's chest tightened painfully, but he forced himself to hold his ground. "We are, Victor. I just… need a little space right now. I'm sorry."

Victor nodded, though he didn't look convinced. "Okay. I'll… see you around then."

As Victor left, Milo turned back to his canvas, trying to ignore the emptiness settling in his heart. He knew he was hurting Victor, but he convinced himself it was for the best. Every time Victor came close, every shared laugh, every gentle touch only made his feelings grow stronger. And he couldn't bear the thought of losing control, of letting Victor see just how much he truly cared.

For the rest of the day, Milo buried himself in his work, but the hollow ache in his chest remained. He could paint, he could create, but no amount of distraction would erase the longing that pulsed quietly beneath the surface.

When night finally fell, Milo sat alone in his studio, the silence pressing down around him. He looked at the unfinished paintings, the colors that had once brought him so much joy now feeling dull and empty. He was distancing himself from Victor to protect his heart, yet all he felt was a growing loneliness, a longing for something he couldn't have.

The path he'd chosen felt right, but it also felt unbearably empty. And as he sat there, staring into the quiet of the studio, Milo wondered how long he could keep this up—how long he could pretend that distancing himself from Victor wasn't breaking his heart more with each passing day.

***