When I left the bathroom and went for my laptop, I found Kade packing his gym bag. My laptop was already taken out of the bag and placed on the bed.

“Thanks.” I carefully picked it up appreciating the gesture.

“Don't mention it.” He placed a towel into the bag and zipped it up, black workout shorts in his hand. “I should be back in forty minutes, an hour tops. I'll have my phone with me—”

“Which you won't need. I’ll be fine,” I finished for him, my lips turning up. “Have fun at the gym and do a few bench presses for me.”

Kade shook his head in amusement and disappeared into the master bathroom. Personally, I hated gyms with passion. In my eyes, it was either a show-off or a torture room, and I was against both. I preferred swimming over everything. Hiking was okay, too. Occasionally, I could be persuaded to go for a run or try out other random outdoor sports. However, I drew a hard line at working out holed up in some room with other sweaty men and women. No, thank you.

There was only one indoor workout that was an exception and I loved unconditionally. Lots of mind-blowing sex in various positions with my man. Yes, please.

My eyes caressed the black and white pencil painting decorating half of the wall in front of me, opposite our bed. I smiled, warmth filling me just from looking at it. It was a life-size picture of us in our bed, the pencil work with light shading radiating dreamy and cozy feelings.

Kade's head was lying relaxed on my chest, eyes closed, arms disappearing behind my back, his naked body covering mine and comfortably resting between my stretched legs. My left hand was in his hair, the other loosely resting on his left biceps. We were naked save for the white rumpled blanket strategically covering Kade's round buttocks, the rest of it coiled on the left side off us.

Very few people entered our bedroom and got to see this picture as I was extremely possessive about who was allowed to see this side of my lover. At first glance, the drawing appeared to give a peek of Kade sleeping with a faint smile on his face. But upon closer look one noticed that the light shading also revealed traces of perspiration on his back and on my body, his hair slightly damp as well.

That warm smile, his relaxed posture, along with his sated and carefree expression crowned an hour of incredible morning sex we had. A second before this captured moment, Kade had licked cum from my chest. We stayed entwined intimately long after our orgasms, none of us willing to break the surreal feeling of deep connection and utter content.

Long enough to inspire me to draw this tender moment on canvas.

I shivered in pleasure as I remembered snapshots of various positions we had that morning and the delicious frustration I felt when Kade postponed our orgasm yet again. I liked tantric sex, loved it even, but damn it—I loved coming just as well!

It took me more than three months to draw this pencil painting, and I finally succeeded with my second try. It conveyed the warmth, the closeness, the deep satisfaction we had felt that morning. I wanted this powerful moment to be the first thing to greet us every morning, to always remind us what we had and how happy we were.

My eyes traced the right bottom corner where the name of the drawing was penciled in small black letters. Connection. I smiled, caressing Kade's lines with my eyes once again. We were indeed connected, even if I was blind to the fact for a long time. We couldn't sever our link even when we had broken up six years ago, and luckily, it brought us back together.

Until I overanalyzed and messed up again, my mind supplied sarcastically.

I wouldn't, I just needed to heal and forget the hospital, that’s all!

As I admired the drawing in front of me, I wondered, however, if I’d be able to draw such pictures ever again. Would I ever draw at all? My irrational anger aside, I felt confident Kade and I should, no, would be okay, however I didn't have the same conviction about drawing. I feared the alien detachment I felt when I held a pencil now could be the permanent consequence of the accident.

Would I be able to look at this drawing and others I’ve made over years if I couldn't draw anymore? Could I still work at Seb's gallery?

It would be painful to be reminded every day of who I once was. To look at this magnificent painting and see proof of what my hands were once able to create. I don't think I could bear it, but it would kill me to take this painting down, too. It belonged right here, nowhere else.

“Why the gloomy look?” My lover's voice right next to me startled me; I hadn’t heard his approach.

Kade was dressed in black workout shorts and a grey sleeveless shirt and socks—all ready for the gym, save for the sneakers waiting for him by the door. He looked edible even in workout clothes.

“Where are you with your thoughts?” He nudged.

I sighed, looking back at the picture on the wall. I’d be a different man if I wouldn’t be able to draw. What if somebody who was not broken caught Kade's attention? Then the only thing I'd have left would be pictures of him. I clutched the laptop closer to myself, insecurities getting the better of me again.

“Talk to me.” Kade stepped in front of me, placing his hand on my cheek, urging me to look at him.

“The same old 'what ifs',” I summarized, deflated.

We've had several conversations about my newly found fears and destructive 'what if' scenarios plaguing my mind at the hospital. It was enough to mention only that for Kade to understand what I meant.

“I wish I knew what to tell you to put your mind at ease once and for all. I hope when we talk it over tomorrow one more time you’ll allow yourself to relax,” he murmured against my temple. 

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