Chapter 3
All eyes turned to Michael as he walked to the only empty seat in the room, next to Oliver. With an air of confidence, Michael took his place, his eyes scanning the room before briefly meeting Oliver's gaze.
Oliver, couldn't help but be intrigued by the new arrival. There was something about Michael that drew him in, an enigmatic aura that piqued his curiosity. He watched as Michael carefully set his art supplies on the desk, his movements graceful and deliberate.
As Ms. Thompson continued her lecture on the principles of composition, Oliver found his attention drifting towards Michael. He admired the way Michael's pale skin seemed to glow under the soft classroom lighting, his dark hair falling effortlessly into place.
Unable to resist his playful nature, Oliver leaned closer to Michael, his voice low as he whispered, "So, what brings you to our humble art sanctuary, Michael? You seem like a man of many talents."
Michael turned his gaze towards Oliver, his eyes holding a subtle depth that Oliver couldn't quite decipher. A smile played at the corners of Michael's lips as he replied, his voice smooth and velvety, "I've always had a fondness for the arts. They offer a unique expression of the human experience, don't you think?"
Oliver nodded, his heart pounding slightly in his chest. He had expected a more straightforward answer, but Michael's response held a poetic quality that left him wanting to know more.
The class continued, brushes stroking canvases, and pencils sketching delicate lines. As the time passed in the quiet classroom, Oliver found himself drawn to Michael's presence. He admired Michael's talent, the way he seemed to bring life to every stroke and brush stroke, and the ease with which he conveyed emotions through his art, he admired many great artist but the way Michael painted felt so surreal.
.Michael couldn't help but notice the fiery gaze of the young man before him. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, which he swiftly concealed, gently placing down his paintbrush after the final stroke. Oliver's soft clapping of hands revealed his genuine excitement and admiration.
"You're so talented, Michael," Oliver expressed, his smile radiant with genuine delight. "To create such a beautiful piece of art in just a few hours, it's amazing."
Michael chuckled softly, his raven-black hair cascading down his back as he tilted his head slightly. "That's awfully kind of you, Oliver," he responded, his voice carrying a touch of warmth.
"It's the truth, and I'm sure you hear it all the time," Oliver added, his gaze fixated on the painting as if it were a rare artifact.
Michael noticed Oliver's fascination and couldn't help but smirk. "If you like it, you can have it," he offered. Oliver's head whipped toward the pale man, astonishment evident on his face. "You mean it, really?"
Michael nodded fondly, the once cold aura around him dissolving. "Yes, I have plenty of them at home anyway. What's one more?"
Expressing his gratitude, Oliver stood up and embraced the surprised man, ignoring the widening of Michael's eyes in disbelief. Oliver glanced once more at the painting, appreciating the gift he had been given.
"Hey, would you like to go to the cafe after our morning classes?" Oliver asked, his happiness evident. Michael nodded in agreement, a subtle smile playing on his lips.