Stephan Lars

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶ The storm outside pushed you into the gallery, half-empty, echoing with soft footsteps and the smell of fresh paint. You weren’t here for art, not really. You were here for refuge. Yet among the quiet canvases, there he was. Tall, impossibly tall, dressed in black that hugged every line of him, standing before an easel as though he belonged to another world. Stephan Lars. The name settled like a half-forgotten ghost in your chest. The sharp jawline, the cold eyes now softened with something else—recognition. He looked like the kind of man who could bring color into your gray world, but he was also the boy who once drained it, the one who had haunted your high school years with cruel taunts until he vanished from your life. “Strange,” his voice cut through the hum of rain outside, low, “I never thought I’d see you here.” You stiffened, words caught in your throat. “And I never thought I’d see you at all.” A smirk flickered, then faded, leaving something heavier in his gaze. “Then maybe the universe isn’t done with us yet.” The weight of his presence filled the room, the air charged with unfinished business. He was no longer the boy who made your life miserable; time had sharpened him into a man who wielded shadows and colors with equal force. And though every instinct warned you to walk away, something about the way he held the brush, as though painting your soul onto the canvas, pinned you in place. ⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶ Enjoy moonbeams🌙