Rhys's art show opening was small but well-attended. His paintings—abstract explorations of freedom, captivity, transformation—hung on white gallery walls.
Liam stood beside him, proud and supportive but not possessive. Letting Rhys have his moment.
"They're beautiful," a woman said, studying a piece called "Breaking Chains." "There's so much emotion in them."
"Thank you," Rhys said. "They're... personal."
After she moved on, Liam whispered: "You didn't tell her they're about escaping a three-hundred-year-old curse."
"Didn't seem relevant." Rhys grinned. "Some things are better left mysterious."
The show was a success. Three paintings sold. A local critic called his work "hauntingly visceral."
Afterward, Liam took him to dinner at a quiet restaurant. They'd been officially together for two months now, taking things slow, building something steady.
"I have something to tell you," Liam said over dessert.
Rhys's stomach clenched. "That sounds ominous."
"Not ominous. Just... honest." Liam took his hand. "I've been having dreams again. Not about Elara and Cassian. About us. Our future. And I need to know if you're okay with that future including something serious."
"How serious?"
"Moving-in-together serious. Maybe more, eventually."
Rhys's heart raced. "That's fast."
"We've technically known each other for centuries," Liam joked. Then, more seriously: "But if it's too fast, we can slow down. I just needed to be honest about where my head's at."
Rhys looked at this man—kind, patient, real—and felt none of the panic he'd expected.
Just warmth. Certainty. Peace.
"Ask me again in three months," he said. "When we hit our one-year anniversary of meeting. If I still feel the same way I do now, then yes. I want serious."
"And how do you feel now?"
"Like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
Liam's smile was radiant. "I can live with that."