the artist | haobin

Chapter Four

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Hanbin's gaze shifted toward his bedroom door, where a faint sound caught his attention. He rose from the couch and made his way to the room.

Pushing the door open, he found his guest sitting on the edge of the bed, the morning light painting a halo around his figure. His tousled hair and drowsy eyes hinted at the remnants of somnolence that clung to him.

Zhanghao, with his endearing charm, possessed a distinctive feature that added a touch of uniqueness to his appearance. Underneath his right eye, nestled delicately against his smooth skin, were two small moles. Like celestial stars, they formed a subtle constellation that added an alluring hint of intrigue to his face.

His hair, stylishly parted, added a dash of sophistication to his overall look. Each strand seemed to find its perfect place, meticulously arranged to create a sense of effortless elegance. Whether it was tousled or perfectly styled, his hair spoke of a carefree spirit tempered with a meticulous attention to detail.

His stature was neither imposing nor diminutive, striking a balance between strength and grace. His lean frame exuded a quiet confidence, accentuated by his casual yet refined fashion sense.

But beyond his physical attributes, it was his presence that truly captivated. Zhanghao carried himself with an air of gentle kindness, his genuine nature shining through in every interaction. There was an unassuming magnetism that drew people to him, an invisible thread that created an instant sense of familiarity.

Their eyes met, and a shy smile graced his lips. "Good morning," he greeted softly, his voice soothing.

A surge of relief washed over Hanbin as he returned the smile, a weight lifted from his chest. "Good morning," he replied, his voice infused with a newfound sense of ease. The awkwardness of the previous night seemed to dissipate, replaced by a newfound comfort in each other's presence.

Zhanghao patted the space beside him on the bed, inviting the boy to join him. Without hesitation, Hanbin sat down, the mattress sinking slightly beneath their combined weight.

They sat in comfortable silence, the morning light casting a warm glow on their faces. Words seemed unnecessary as they basked in the quiet companionship, their presence speaking volumes. Hanbin's gaze wandered, taking in the details of Zhanghao's face—the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the softness of his features that betrayed his kindness.

His eyes, adorned with a hint of mischief, shimmered with a warmth that radiated from within. His gaze held a captivating depth, reflecting a soul that had weathered both joys and sorrows. The morning light danced upon his features, illuminating the delicate curve of his lips, ever so slightly upturned in a serene expression.

Each feature seemed to harmonize effortlessly, creating a captivating portrait that Hanbin couldn't tear his gaze away from.

The morning sunlight filtered through the half-drawn curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the room. He was still sitting beside Zhanghao, his eyes filled with genuine curiosity and a gentle concern. The air seemed suspended, charged with unspoken questions that lingered between them.

In a tender yet cautious voice, he broached the subject that had piqued his curiosity. "Zhanghao, if it's not too personal, may I ask why you don't have a home?" His gaze searched his face for any sign of hesitation.

The latter's expression wavered for a moment. He glanced down at his hands, his fingers intertwined, as if deliberating how much to reveal. After a momentary pause, he took a deep breath and met Hanbin's gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of memories and determination.