The late afternoon light spilled through the tall windows of Ava's studio, warm and golden, like honey drizzled across the worn wooden floor. Max stood near the easel, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"This is ridiculous," he said, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. "I don't think I've sat still for this long since high school detention."
Ava smiled, her eyes crinkling with amusement as she arranged her sketchpad. "You're doing great. Besides, you promised. One sketch, remember?"
"I thought you meant sketching the harbour or that weird tree by the bakery. Not… me."
"I told you," she said softly, "there's something in your expression I wanted to capture."
That shut him up.
Max exhaled and settled onto the stool, the playful spark in his eyes dimming into something quieter, more introspective. Ava's pencil moved swiftly across the page, the sound of graphite brushing paper filling the silence between them.
For a while, they didn't speak. Outside, gulls cried over the cliffs and the ocean whispered against the rocks. Inside, time stretched, comfortable and slow. Ava studied the slope of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow, the tension in his shoulders that gradually eased as she drew.
"What do you see?" Max asked suddenly, voice low.
Ava looked up. "What do you mean?"
"When you look at me. What do you really see?"
She hesitated, the pencil still in her hand. "Someone who hides behind humour. Who thinks if he keeps moving, he won't have to sit with the things that hurt."
Max blinked, surprised. "That's… accurate. A little rude, but accurate."
She grinned, then softened. "And someone who listens deeply. Who notices things most people don't. Like the way the light hits the boats at sunset. Or when someone's pretending to be fine."
Max swallowed. "I notice you."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither moved.
Ava's voice was barely a whisper. "I know."
She turned the sketchpad toward him. It wasn't perfect her work never was, not in the traditional sense. But it was real. Raw. Honest.
He looked at It, then at her. "You see me."
"I think I've been seeing you for a while now."
Max stood, walked toward her slowly. "Then maybe it's time I saw you too."
His hand brushed hers, tentative, then certain. The kiss that followed wasn't rushed it was gentle, searching, a promise wrapped in silence. When they finally pulled apart, Ava touched his cheek.
"Still think this is ridiculous?"
Max smiled. "Only that it took us this long."