Taylor's hand moves instinctively to the right spot, building a new picture. His overflowing imagination drives his hand to dance gracefully over the canvas. Occasionally smears different colours on the palate to find the right distinct tone he wants by creating new formulas like a mad scientist. Unbothered by a few splashes of paint on his cheeks and stainings on his shirt. 

Inside the of 100ft square studio, Taylor stuffed his painting materials, and places them on every corner of his matchbox size apartment; Rolls of canvas on the corner of the wall, paintings in progress lining the room, all kinds of brushes on the side of the dishwasher, and paint cans on display on the window frames. The reek of oil paint mixes with a damp wall from the leaking conduit hovers around the suffocated space, painstakingly reduce by the struggled air purifier. Despite all the havoc, this is Taylor’s second home, although he only comes to paint and other reasons.

A sudden knocking voice on his studio door makes him flinch. Instantly brings him back from the deep indulgence in his own painting process.

“Come in,” he says, doesn’t need to check who. He already knows. Without looking in the door direction, Taylor keeps brushing the yellow paint over the blue one, doesn't miss to also paints a gentle smile on his suddenly bright face.

Oliver gets himself in after hanging his coat, he approaches Taylor from behind, and hugs him as he peppering kiss on his face “I miss you” he whispers between their kisses.

Taylor giggles. He tries to avoid his paint-stained hand from touching Oliver but still manages to hug him back as tight as possible. “I know, sweetheart”

Oliver doesn't think he ever saw Taylor without paint on his auburn locks. It is as much a part of the smile he wears whenever Oliver appears on the doorstep.

After putting the sandwiches he made before coming and a cup of coffee for him and tea for Taylor on the small table near the couch, Oliver takes a look at the painting his boyfriend working on, “What’s your painting about?" Oliver asks curiously.

Taylor excitedly explains his new painting, and Oliver always finds it endearing. Taylor is always so passionate about his dream and looking at him, working hard for what he likes makes Oliver admire him even more.

It’s not the first time he visits Taylor’s painting studio. He has been here most of the time of their date. Of course, it’s hard to go on a date like a normal couple and share affection in public. It’s too risky, and they don’t want a fussy reporter to write some shit about them. Oliver loathes unnecessary attention toward him, especially about something unrelated to his achievement. Meanwhile, Taylor works so hard for everything he has now, that one speck of rumour could ruin his entire world, which is as fragile as a house of cards. 

For them, it’s more than enough to meet at the cramps painting studio in the basement under a shitty barbershop. This is their safe place where they share their love and affection for the past 2 years.

“...Haven’t chosen the title yet, but it is supposed to remain simple,” Taylor answers, focusing on stroking his brush on the yellow hue in the middle of the deep murky blue ocean.

Taylor’s phone buzzes in his pocket and brings Oliver back from lost in thought while inhaling the sweet scent on his lover’s nape. Taylor puts his earbuds in both of his ears, “Babe, can you help me with the phone?”

Oliver understands Taylor can't touch the phone with his stained hands and helps him take the phone from his jacket pocket.

“From who?” Taylor asks at the same time.

“It’s…Noah” Oliver swipes the accept button without being told while quietly takes one of Taylor’s earbuds and tucks it in his own ear.

“Noah??” Taylor greets him happily follows by loud screeching by the other

Oliver smiles as he listens silently with his hands circling on Taylor’s waist as he rests his head on his shoulder, once a while stealing kisses on his cheek

‘What took you so long?’ the other whines playfully

Taylor laughs. “I’m painting Noah. Fancy you calling me instead of crashing into my room, what happened?”

‘You are not going to believe me!’ he exclaims excitedly. Oliver smiles without realising when he hears such a familiar high-pitched voice he usually heard in his bakery every morning.

“yeah? Try me!”

‘You remember Michael from my department?’ Noah beams happily, his voice lightens up, even more, his panting breath even can be heard from the phone showing how excited he is.

Taylor seems to focus on Noah’s story. He puts his brush and wipes his hand with the rag near him. “Michael? your crush in uni? The guy you almost kissed at prom but you were too drunk so you puke on his suit instead?”

Noah groans frustratedly and mutters incoherent curse words, ‘Don’t trigger my party phobia again Tay. But yeah, that Michael!’

Taylor puts his hand over Oliver’s palm on his torso. Oliver hums contentedly, “What about him Noah? Tell me, what makes my workaholic best friend ecstatic?”

‘He will take me on a date next week!’ Noah practically screams that Taylor wincing from the loud voice on the ear pods, Noah can’t stop laughing, and follows with his signature twinkle giggle.

Taylor laughs because of Noah's contagious giggle, and Oliver grins on Taylor's shaky shoulder “Oh my god Noah! Finally! It’s that mean my best friend will break his 5 years single curse?”

Noah whines and Oliver can imagine his pouty lips jutting like a petulant kid, the same one Noah always pulls when Oliver purposely ignores his chatter at the bakery. “Tay, I love you, but you are really dramatic. It’s not a curse, okay? I’m just too busy to be involved in romantic shit. My life is already too complicated,” he clarifies.

Taylor goes silent for a while. Oliver can feel his body slightly tense in his embrace before he relaxes again and chuckles, “Alright Mr. hard worker, now what’s youwhilst for the date?” he asks whislt takes back the brush between his fingers.

Noah hums melodically, pretending he racks his brain for an amazing plan he has been thinking ‘make myself pretty?’

Oliver rolls his eyes but a fond smile makes its way to his lips, he hasn't had a lot of a proper chat with Noah but his signature way of talking and his expressive demeanour are already familiar to him since he had heard it every single day in his bakery. 

“Need my help?” Taylor chuckles. The longer he listens to Noah’s cheerful babble, the more strokes Taylor adds to his painting. Also, the more colours manifested. Plethora shapes and textures filled the empty spots. His hand movement is getting faster, driven by an unknown force within him.

“yep! Definitely need you to choose my outfit,” he chirps endearingly on the other side.

Oliver listens to the rest of the conversation with surprisingly a smile that never leaves his lips. He thought Noah only behaved like that to get close with the bakery staff, but he was apparently a chatterbox by nature.

‘I’ll call you again tonight to ask dating tips 101, okay?’

Taylor smiles “Alright Noah ah I’ll wait for your call tonight, hm?”

Taylor takes off the earbud as soon as Noah ends the call. He is back focused on his painting, smearing the colours wider than before, splashing his brush all over the place, making a chaotic harmony over the 60” x 40” canvas. 

Oliver pulls back, giving his boyfriend more room to move. He grabs near the chair to sit, watching him from behind. Taylor lets out a heavy sigh after being quiet for a while. "Sometimes I feel sorry for him,” he murmurs without looking back at Oliver.

Oliver can’t resist a deep frown from marring his eyebrows. “Why? He is doing well, isn’t he?”.

Dragging the swivel chair to the back, Taylor stares at his painting in a bigger view and examines his own work. “He is. But he has been through a lot. His father raised him alone. As a taxi driver, he worked almost 18 hours so he could pay the bills and save for Noah’s tuition. If his father didn’t meet my family, I don’t know what Noah would be like now, ”

Oliver’s body slightly stiffens. Even if that’s the truth, the way Taylor phrases it doesn’t sound right. “I think, no need to feel sorry for him, he’ll be a success regardless, he is a hard worker. If it’s not with your help then he sure would find his own way,” he says without even thinking twice. Maybe too flat rather than the usual tone he used for Taylor.

The painter stands up abruptly and knocks his chair off, wordlessly inspecting his paint-filled canvas before grabbing a can of black paint and promptly throwing it over his own painting, watching the black liquid smeared all over his painting and dripping slowly to stain the floor.

Oliver, who doesn’t expect Taylor would ruin the painting he had been working on for these almost 2 hours, can only stare with a slack jaw and wide eyes.

Taylor says nothing for a while before he breaths out a letdown sigh. “I guess I should throw this one. Too complicated,” he murmurs rather to himself.

“Mr Jackson, someone asked me to give this to you at the front desk” Lisa, his assistant, hands him a brown envelope. The packaging doesn’t seem suspicious - a normal envelope everyone can find in random stationary, but Jackson knows it’s not something plesant by how Lisa’s face crumpled in worry. His assistant's already through every ebb-and-blow with him in this business and she knows an anonymous plain envelope could be an invitation to disaster.

“They didn’t tell what they want or hint who they are?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at the envelope on his table.

“No sir, they sent it with a courier,” Lisa answers, sharing the same concern with her boss.

Jackson takes the envelope. Eventually, he should open it if he wants to know who they are and what they want. After ripping the paper and taking out a few pieces of papers inside, he examines every piece of the document that appears to be a series of photos attentively.

He tries to be unfazed and hides his painful expression in front of his assistant. He clenches his jaw, looking at Taylor’s photo; he was kissing someone in the dark behind his exhibition billboard, the photo bit blurry and the quality is low due to excessive zoom-in, but it’s enough to recognise their faces, another photo was taken in front of a bakery he is unfamiliar with, it’s obviously the side of the big road and from the view of surrounding buildings, he can tell where exactly is it. 

His fiancee, Taylor Kim, looks at being kissed by someone who wears chef attire. It took a couple of times. They kissed, smiling at each other, and someone with that chef suit took his hand and led him inside.

Something unpleasant swirls on his stomach as it makes him sick. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised. Taylor never loves him all this time– Heck, he even hates him. He knows better than to lay a hope that Taylor would reciprocate his feelings or at least be loyal to their engagement. But witnessing his own fiancee sharing something he carves with another man makes his blood boil. He never is the one who gives in, he always gets what he wants, and people will put their life to pursue it for him. 

It feels alien. He has never been ignored or dumped before and the fact that the person is Taylor Kim, his own fiance makes it even more painful. 

Jackson throws the photo on the floor and it scatters all over the place. Lisa can’t help but gasp when she saw what was inside the photos. She looks at Jackson’s flushed face who tries to calm down his own rage, clenching his fist on the table, his eyes still fixated on the photos piled on the floor.

“Sir.. should I do something to the guy in this photo?” Lisa asks carefully. She assumes this is a foul play, the one who took the photo must be setting the whole scenario to make Taylor seem to cheat with another guy so they can use the photo as a threat to extort her boss’ money. 

This kind of scam is already common as long as she accompanies Jackson as his secretary and it only makes sense to find the guy in the photo and interrogating him, makes him leak the other people involved in this plot, even if that means by force.

Jackson takes a sharp breath before he shakes his head. “No- no need. Just find whoever took this photo and give them what they want. Don’t let it leak. No one should know about this, not the media, not Taylor’s family, not mine either. Nobody. It is just between the two of us. Hide this with your life. Understand?” Jackson orders firmly, his eyes scream that his order is irrefutable,

“But sir-“

“It's okay, I’ll take care of the rest. Just do what I told you,” Jackson says whilst looking at Taylor’s genuine boxy smile that Jackson almost forgot the last time he saw it.

Smiles that he doesn’t realise he has been yearning for so long.