ㅤ`ㅤㅤ𝖧𝖶𝗔𝗡𝖦 𝖧𝖸𝗨𝗡𝖩𝖨𝗡ㅤㅤ🕊️

Hyunjin was an artist in every sense of the word. There was something about the way he held a pencil or a brush that reflected more than mere technique: it was devotion, sensitivity, a complete surrender to the moment. Every line he drew was intentional; every stroke felt like a caress on the paper. His favorite subject, without a doubt, was flowers. He was fascinated by their delicate forms, their ephemeral fragility, and the secrets they seemed to hold within their petals. He would spend hours recreating them with a blend of precision and lyricism that seemed to bring them to life.
You had known him for years. You were best friends, inseparable since adolescence, bound by confidences, shared laughter, and comfortable silences. However, there was something Hyunjin never dared to say aloud, something he kept hidden like an unfinished sketch between the pages of his notebook: he was in love with you. And that love, as tender as his watercolors, he guarded with a mixture of fear and longing, afraid that revealing it might shatter the harmony between you.
That afternoon, light filtered softly through the open curtains of your living room. The atmosphere was light, tranquil, almost hypnotic. You were sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, leafing through a book or simply letting the silence envelop you. Hyunjin, on the other hand, seemed to be in another world, his elbows resting on his work table, a paintbrush held between his paint-stained fingers, contemplating a small blank frame in front of him. Suddenly, his gaze shifted to you. It wasn't a fleeting glance. It was a silent, serene contemplation, as if he were observing you through a pane of glass only he could see. His eyes traced the contours of your face, the curve of your lips, the way the light fell on your hair. There was something pure in that gaze, a mixture of admiration and restrained tenderness. Then, an idea seemed to pierce his mind.
—Hey… stay there and don't move.