Chapter Text
The studio always smelled faintly of coffee and turpentine.
Vaniel liked to believe that it was intentional, It made the loft feel lived in. like art didn’t just happen there, it breathed there.
Morning light spilled through the tall industrial windows, catching dust motes in a golden haze. He stood on a stool, adjusting a thin white curtain to soften the glare. Too harsh, and it washed everything out.
“There,” he murmured to himself, hopping down slowly.
The space wasn’t large, but it felt bigger than it was. white brick walls lined with framed photographs, canvases stacked against one another. a mismatched couch near a potted fern that was fighting for its life. The city outside hummed constantly.. car horns, footsteps, distant sirens. It was pretty chaotic, but inside the loft was much better quieter to Vaniels taste.
He checked his camera, wiping a faint smudge from the lens with careful precision.
His phone buzzed on the cluttered wooden desk.
Vaniel hesitated before looking, already knowing what would be waiting for him. Rent reminder.
He sighed softly. “Right. That.”
The gallery commission last month had barely covered any utilities. And while he loved photographing people—their expressions and of course their hidden stories! it wasn’t always the most reliable income. Commercial shoots definitely paid much better, but they felt too hollow. He preferred the quiet honesty of portraits.
Still.. honesty didn’t pay the landlords..
A gentle knock came at the door.
He brightened immediately, setting his phone aside as if the problem would politely wait.
When he opened it, Lily stood there with a paper bag in one hand and an amused expression on her face.
“You forgot to eat again,” she said gently, stepping inside without waiting for permission.
“I did not forget,” Vaniel protested, closing the door behind her. “I was simply prioritizing artistic integrity.”
She raised a brow. “Vaniel, you cant possibly think you can fool me? You were editing until three in the morning.”
He offered a sheepish smile.
Lily sighed before placing the bag on his desk. “Bagels, and ACTUAL fruit, I’m not letting you survive on only coffee.”
He laughed softly, brushing a hand through his pale hair. “Heh, You’re too kind..”
“I’m practical,” she corrected. “Also, your landlord called the shop yesterday.”
Vaniel froze mid-reach for the bagel.
“.. He did?”
She nodded. “You’re not in trouble yet.. but maybe try taking one of those higher-paying shoots?”
He leaned back against the desk, gaze drifting toward the photographs pinned to the wall.
Faces. So many faces. Smiles that didn’t quite reach eyes. Eyes that carried stories no one asked about.
“I only want something real,” he said quietly. “Someone who doesn’t know how to pose. Someone who isn’t performing.”
Lily studied him carefully.
“You’re waiting for a muse.”
His expression softened at that word.
“Not a muse,” he corrected. “Just.. someone honest.”
She smiled knowingly but didn’t press further. "Vaniel, Vaniel.. what am i gonna do with you.." she laughed softly.
After a few more minutes of gentle scolding and casual chatter, she left, promising to visit again soon.
The studio felt quieter after she was gone.
Vaniel walked back to the window, watching rain begin to streak the glass. It wasn’t really heavy.. just a soft drizzle that turned the city reflective and silver.
He loved rain. It made people real. Stripped away polish. Forced them to hurry, to react, to forget about how they looked.
He lifted his camera instinctively, snapping a few shots of the blurred street below.
Click.
Click.
The photos were beautiful but impersonal.
He lowered the camera slowly.
There was a restlessness under his ribs lately. A feeling that something.. or someone was about to shift his world slightly off balance. He didn’t know why he felt that way. Maybe it was just the rent stress talking.
Mh.
He glanced at the empty stool near the backdrop.
“You’d look good there,” he murmured absentmindedly to no one at all. “Whoever you are.” He sighed softly to himself.
Outside, the rain picked up.
And Vaniel, unaware of the quiet storm about to enter his life, returned to editing, chasing soft light and searching for a face he hadn’t met yet.
By mid-afternoon, the rain had settled into a steady rhythm.
Vaniel had edited until the lines of his screen blurred and the soft hum of the city became background noise to his thoughts.
He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling beams.
He wasn’t getting anything new out of the photos.
They were technically good. balanced. warm. gentle.
But they didn’t ache like he wanted it to be.
He wanted something that made his chest tighten in that quiet, inexplicable way.
With a soft exhale, he stood, grabbed his coat, and slung his camera over his shoulder.
“.. Field research,” he muttered to himself, as if the empty studio required explanation.
The city greeted him with cool air and the smell of wet pavement. Streetlights flickered on early under the gray sky, reflections stretching in long golden streaks across the road.
Vaniel walked without a destination. He liked wandering like this, no client, no agenda. Just people.
A couple huddled under a too-small umbrella. An elderly man arguing cheerfully with a fruit vendor. A child stomping in puddles while her exhausted mother tried to pull her along.
Click.
He captured the child mid-laugh, rain caught in her lashes.
There it was again—that flicker. That softness he chased.
He lowered the camera and continued walking, hands tucked into his sleeves.
That was when he saw him.
Even in a crowd, Cade was difficult to miss.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a long, dark coat that looked expensive but practical. His hair deep indigo-black was tied loosely at the nape of his neck, strands escaping in the damp air. A faint scar cut across one eyebrow, old and pale against his skin.
He stood near a crosswalk, posture straight, expression carved from something sterner than stone.
Vaniel smiled immediately.
“Cade!”
The man turned slightly. His gaze was sharp and assessing before he immediately recognized him.
“Vaniel.”
Vaniel stepped closer, he nearly slipped on wet pavement but caught himself with a quiet laugh. “Your out in the rain voluntarily? I’m quite impressed my dear friend!”
“I had a meeting thats all” Cade's voice was low, controlled. “It just ended”
“That sounds.. very ominous.”
“It was.”
Vaniel tilted his head, studying him with open curiosity. Cade always carried himself like the weight of several lifetimes rested squarely on his shoulders. Even now, raindrops clung to his lashes and collar, but he didn’t seem to care
“You look really tired,” Vaniel said gently.
Cade’s jaw tightened faintly. “I’m fine”
“That wasn’t what I asked”
A pause.
The traffic light changed. People flowed around them.
Cade finally exhaled through his nose. “You’re still meddlesome as ever.”
“And you’re still terrible at pretending.”
For a moment, something almost like amusement flickered in Cade’s eyes.
“You should not concern yourself with my affairs,” he said, but there was no bite in it.
Vaniel shrugged lightly. “Too late”
They began walking side by side without discussing it. Cade’s stride was longer; Vaniel had to take two quick steps for every one and Cade couldn't help but laugh at the display.
“You’ve been working too much, im assuming?” Cade observed after a moment.
Vaniel blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You have dark circles.”
He gasped dramatically. “You wound me!”
“It is just an observation.”
Vaniel laughed softly. “Rent is just persuasive.”
Cade’s gaze shifted to him, softer now. “Are you still struggling?”
“I’m surviving,” Vaniel corrected gently. “There’s a difference.”
Silence fell between them—not uncomfortable, but it was heavy.
Cade had always been like this. Protective in ways he didn’t openly admit. Loyal in ways that bordered on self-sacrificial. He didn’t offer comfort in soft words. He offered it in presence.
And Vaniel appreciated that.
They stopped beneath an awning as the rain intensified.
“You could photograph corporate executives,” Cade said after a moment. “It would solve your financial concerns.”
Vaniel wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want executives, I want honesty.”
“Honesty does not pay.”
“It does,” Vaniel replied quietly. “Just not immediately.”
Cade studied him in that piercing way he had—like he was measuring resolve.
“You are very stubborn Vaniel, do you know that?”
“And you admire that about me.”
“Hm.. Perhaps.”
Vaniel smiled warmly.
A beat passed.
“You’re still looking for someone,” Cade said suddenly.
It wasn’t a question.
Vaniel’s expression softened, rainlight catching in his pale lashes.
“Yes.”
“For what?”
He hesitated.
“Not perfection,” he said at last. “Someone who doesn’t realize they’re beautiful when they’re thinking about something else. Someone guarded, maybe, someone who doesn’t trust easily..”
Cade’s gaze darkened slightly. “That sounds.. complicated.”
“Well! It sounds real to me.”
Another silence.
Cade glanced away first. “You romanticize difficulty too much.”
“No,” Vaniel corrected gently. “I believe in what’s underneath it.”
The rain began to slow again, tapering into mist.
Cade adjusted his coat. “Be careful.”
Vaniel tilted his head. “Of what?”
“Of people who do not know how to be cared for.”
The words lingered heavier than they should have.
Vaniel’s smile softened.. not naive.. not careless.. Just certain.
“I’m patient.”
Cade looked at him for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression.
“Yes,” he said finally. “You are.”
A car pulled up to the curb. Cade’s driver stepped out with an umbrella.
Of course.
“You’re leaving already?” Vaniel asked lightly.
“I have responsibilities.”
“You always do.”
Cade paused before stepping away.
“If you require assistance,” he said carefully, “you can always ask.”
Vaniel’s chest warmed. “I know.”
Cade nodded once, then disappeared into the car, door closing with a quiet, decisive sound.
Vaniel remained under the awning a moment longer.
Be careful of people who do not know how to be cared for.
He watched the city breathe around him.
Somewhere out there was someone who flinched at kindness. Someone who didn’t hold eye contact. Someone who thought being seen meant being exposed.
His fingers tightened around his camera strap.
The thought didn’t scare him.
It intrigued him.
After a moment, he stepped back into the rain—walking with no direction again, unaware that somewhere in the city, someone equally guarded was walking alone, equally restless.
And the distance between them was slowly, quietly closing.
The rain softened into a mist that clung to Vaniel's coat like a quiet insistence.
He didn’t rush back to the studio.
Instead, he let the city pull him forward, shoes tapping against damp pavement, camera resting against his hip. The sky was bruised lavender now, evening slipping in gently between buildings.
The familiar glow of a corner café caught his attention.
Warm light spilled onto the sidewalk. The windows were fogged from within, silhouettes moving behind the glass. It felt like a small sanctuary carved into the noise of the street.
Vaniel smiled faintly and stepped inside.
A bell chimed overhead.
The scent hit him immediately—fresh coffee, steamed milk, a hint of dark chocolate. The low murmur of conversation hummed beneath the steady hiss of a milk steamer.
Behind the counter, looking entirely unimpressed with the world, stood Espresso.
His sleeves were rolled neatly to his elbows, dark hair slightly disheveled from the humidity.
Thin-framed glasses rested low on his nose as he measured coffee grounds with meticulous precision. His expression carried that perpetual air of intellectual irritation—like existence itself was mildly inefficient.
He didn’t look up right away.
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said dryly.
Vaniel leaned his elbows on the counter as he always does.
“I should hope so,” he replied warmly. “I’d hate to be emotionally abandoned in a caffeine crisis.”
Espresso paused.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze.
“.. Vaniel.”
The faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed recognition.
“Espresso,” Vaniel beamed. “You look radiant under fluorescent lighting.”
“Hardly, I look more employed,” Espresso corrected flatly.
“That too.” he chuckled softly.
Espresso resumed his movements, tamping the espresso with careful force. “You’re drenched.”
“It’s called atmosphere.”
“It’s called pneumonia.”
Vaniel laughed softly again.
Espresso slid a cup beneath the machine. “The usual?”
“Of course.”
“You realize you could learn to make it yourself.”
“And deprive you of my charming company?”
A pause.
“.. Tempting.”
The machine whirred. Steam rose. Espresso worked with sharp, practiced movements, each action precise and deliberate. Watching him was like watching someone conduct a symphony no one else could hear.
Vaniel studied him fondly. “You’ve been busy,” he observed.
“Yes.”
“That’s it? Just ‘yes’?”
“I have nothing further to report about my life.”
“You never have anything to report,” Vaniel teased. “Yet somehow there’s always something happening around you.”
Espresso shot him a look over the rim of the cup.
“If this is an attempt at prying, it is poorly executed.”
Vaniel gasped lightly. “I am truly wounded! I am simply concerned for your social well-being!”
“My social well-being is statistically adequate.”
“Mmhmm..”
Espresso placed the finished drink in front of him. The foam was perfectly layered, a delicate swirl etched into the surface.
Vaniel’s eyes lit up. “.. This is beautiful!”
“It is a standard pattern.”
“And like i said its beautiful.”
Espresso looked away first.
Vaniel took a careful sip and sighed contentedly. “Mmhh.. You always get it right.”
“Precision,” Espresso replied, wiping down the counter. “Unlike photography, which depends heavily on chance.”
“Rude! Chance is just honesty caught off guard!”
“It is poor planning.”
Vaniel smiled softly into his cup holding his laugh.
For a moment, they stood in companionable quiet—the kind that didn’t need filling.
Then Vaniel’s expression shifted, mischief flickering softly.
“So,” he began lightly.
Espresso didn’t even have to look up. “No.”
Vaniel chuckled softly “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
“I can infer.”
Vaniel leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Have you spoken to Adeline lately?”
Espresso’s hand stilled for half a second.
Barely noticeable.
Vaniel noticed and couldn't help but breathe a laugh.
“I do not see how that is relevant to your caffeine consumption.”
“Oh, it’s entirely relevant,” Vaniel replied innocently. “He’s been stopping by my studio more often.”
“That is his prerogative.”
“Mhmm..”
“He requires new headshots.”
“For the fifth time this year?”
Espresso adjusted his glasses.
“Public image management is important.”
Vaniel hummed thoughtfully. “He does seem very invested in looking impressive.”
Espresso said nothing.
“And yet,” Vaniel continued gently, “he always asks whether you’ve visited lately.”
That earned him a sharper look.
“I fail to see why my schedule would concern him.”
Vaniel rested his chin in his hand, smiling softly. “You know, he gets this little crease between his brows when he pretends he’s not worried.”
Espresso’s jaw tightened ever so slightly.
“He worries unnecessarily.”
“About you?”
A beat.
Espresso busied himself with aligning cups that did not need aligning.
“He is.. just overly sentimental..”
“And you’re not?”
“No? Of course not.”
Vaniel tilted his head, studying him. “Then why did you memorize his exact order?”
Espresso froze.
“I memorize all regular orders.”
“Oh?” Vaniel’s smile widened faintly. “Then what did I order the first time I came here?”
“.. That is irrelevant.”
Vaniel laughed quietly.
A faint flush crept up Espresso’s ears.. subtle but present.
“You enjoy provoking people too much,” Espresso muttered.
“Only the ones I like.”
Espresso huffed softly but didn’t argue.
Vaniel took another sip of his drink, warmth spreading through him. The café lights glowed softly against the rainy evening outside, making the world beyond the windows feel distant and blurred.
“You’re deflecting,” Espresso said suddenly.
Vaniel blinked. “Am I?”
“Yes. You only tease others when you are avoiding to discuss about yourself.”
He paused.
Fair.
Vaniel traced the rim of his cup with his finger.
“I’m looking for someone,” he admitted quietly.
Espresso’s gaze sharpened with interest. “Romantically?”
“Artistically.”
A pause.
“What kind of answer is that?!”
Vaniel smiled faintly. “It’s both.”
Espresso studied him carefully now, analytical as ever.
“You grow restless when uninspired.”
“I grow restless when I haven’t met someone honest in a while.”
Espresso considered that.
“The city is not known for honesty.”
“I know.”
“Then your expectations are statistically inefficient.”
Vaniel laughed softly. “Maybe.”
Outside, rain streaked down the glass in thin silver lines.
“But I have a feeling,” he added quietly.
Espresso’s brow lifted slightly. “Based on what data?”
“None.”
“.. Hopeless.”
“Optimistic actually!” he corrected with a giggle.
Espresso shook his head, though there was something faintly approving in his expression.
“You are drawn to complexity,” he said after a moment.
Vaniel didn’t deny it.
“Careful,” Espresso added coolly. “Some complexities are not puzzles to be solved.”
Vaniel’s gaze drifted toward the window again.
“I’m not trying to solve anyone,” he murmured. “I just want to see them.”
The café grew quieter as the evening deepened. A few customers filtered out. The air felt warmer now, almost intimate.
Espresso glanced at the clock.
“You should return to your studio,” he said. “You work better at night.”
“You know my schedule too well.”
“I observe patterns.”
Vaniel smiled and reached for his coat.
As he stepped away from the counter, he paused.
“Tell Adeline I said hello.”
Espresso stiffened faintly.
“I will not be acting as your messenger!”
“Of course not,” Vaniel replied sweetly. “You’ll just ‘coincidentally’ mention it.”
“.. Goodnight, Vaniel.”
Vaniel laughed as he stepped back into the damp evening.
The rain had nearly stopped now. The city shimmered under streetlights, reflections stretching like liquid gold.
He walked slower this time, warmth lingering from the coffee.. and the conversation.
Espresso had been right about one thing.
He was restless.
But it wasn’t desperation.
It was anticipation.
Somewhere in the vastness of this city was a presence he hadn’t encountered yet. Someone who would avoid eye contact. Someone who would sit too stiffly in front of a camera. Someone who didn’t realize how visible they already were.
Vaniel tightened his grip on his camera strap, a soft smile playing at his lips.
He wasn’t searching frantically.
He was simply waiting for the right light to shift.
And when it did—
He would be ready.