It was the 5th painting this week already. Same person but different angles. Chan let out a sigh and moved backwards to admire the finished painting he started 6 hours ago. The portrait of a boy he doesn't have any clue as to whom.

     This time, you can clearly see the face of the said boy. Chan being proud of the outcome is an understatement. Maybe his subject was just so beautiful so it came out good. What really stood out was the boy's eyes when he's smiling, that reminds Chan so much of fennec fox's eyes. It's almost disappearing but it's cute. The boy also has this gleam in his eyes that just won't disappear, one of many reasons why Chan is drawn to the boy.

     "I wonder...if you're real." The last part of the sentence came out as a whisper.

     He's young, Chan can tell by the boy's face. He always dreamed of him since he was 18 and now he's 23, working as a painter in his small art studio not that far from where he live. He has another painting of the said boy at the small storage room he built himself, good thing he owns the place. He didn't dare display the paintings again because some people keep asking if he sells them.

     He never did. He doesn't want to sell any paintings he made of the guy. It's kind of a shame since the boy is really really beautiful, looks surreal. Or maybe he really isn't real, Chan thought but almost instantly shook his head. He wants the guy to be real, he wants to meet the mysterious boy who has been lingering in his dream since he was 18.

     "I hope you're real," Chan whispered again as he stared at the canvas for another minute or so, before approaching the canvas and lifting it to set aside.

     He wants to call it a day as he started packing his things, checking if everything's somehow clean aside from the dried paint all over the place, of course.

     A faint ring of the familiar bell made him stop as he looked back to see who came in.

     Jaw dropping slowly, Chan absentmindedly dropped the container with paintbrushes in it, too. Completely frozen as it seems like the world had stopped spinning.

     Wrapped in an oversized light pink hoodie, a black sweatpant and a pair of crocs, stood in front of him, smiling.

     That familiar smile he only sees in his dream, the familiar eyes who has been staring at him in his dream since he was a teen.

     It's him. It's the boy from his dreams.

     Alive, breathing and real.

     "Hello, a friend of mine recommended this studio of yours, said you sell some painting and also do commission!"