The early December air whistles across the campus, the weak sunlight barely casting a glow on what it touches for the short hours for which it shows itself. It's ironic, because Benji can relate. The cold has made him crave human touch but he hasn't been able to get enough of it.

He sits at the desk in his dorm, still in his pajamas, as he finishes up the last few pages of the book he'd borrowed from the library, Kafka on the Shore this time. But he finds his mind wandering again.

Benji sighs. He remembers with a pang the fact that Victor has been busy lately and as such has been spending most of his time in the library buried in his computer and textbooks instead of in Benji, where he could argue Victor belongs much more urgently. They didn't cross paths for more than study sessions and quickies in the library bathroom. And the guys he's seen in Victor's stead have been, as usual, disappointing in several ways, most of all because they couldn't give fewer fucks, but they still managed to stave off at least some of the itch Benji has for sex.

Regardless, and he hates to admit it, he's gotten to the point where he has no choice but to take care of himself a bit more. But it isn't the same as a real human man with a real human dick and real human hands. And his own wrist is starting to get tired.

Of course Benji could join Victor in the library, but he mostly had group projects and painting to do, and so he was spending more time in the art and music buildings lately. It was nearing the end of the semester and as a result, the work he'd put off was starting to require his urgent attention.

Closing the book and exhaling aloud, Benji wishes reading didn't take him so long these days due to all the distractions sitting on his mind blocking the advancement of his thoughts beyond his basest, most animalistic urges. He has his figure drawing class soon but all he wants to do is crawl back into the nest of his bed and curl up under the covers.

Setting the book aside, Benji rises from his seat and opens his closet. He raises an eyebrow; somehow all the clothes he normally wears have ended up in the laundry, but he doesn't have time to wash things now. When he glances at his phone, he all but jumps; 2:05 pm.

That means Benji has just enough time to shower, dress himself, make himself something quick to eat, and then sprint across campus to the art building. He could do that.

Without a further thought, Benji bolts into the bathroom, trying to scrub the barraging thoughts from his brain in the process. He dries his hair and fishes out his last outfit from the closet—a short-sleeved black and white checkered crop top and a pair of tight red shorts that make his ass look better than it should—and dresses himself before making himself a quick packet of ramen even though he knows he's going to feel disgusting afterward.

At 2:45, Benji throws on his leather jacket and boots, grabs his portfolio, and leaves, hoping he can keep up his streak of arriving in class before the professor. But more importantly, he wants to arrive before all the seats get taken so he can avoid sitting next to Mia.

The winter air bites at his bare calves as he makes his way across the pavement, his footsteps like live rounds echoing in the distance of the unusually empty campus. But that tends to happen near the end of term, although it doesn't make it any less weird.

At 2:56, when Benji barges into the classroom to see three open spots, Mia glances at him and he makes eye contact with her for a heartbeat before looking away and sitting on the opposite end of the room next to a shy girl called Ruth who wears her hair in long box braids and has braces. She always finds something nice to say about Benji's work, so he took a liking to her immediately and they became friends over the last few weeks. He can feel Mia's eyes piercing them like lasers when they speak, but he ignores her stare, unzipping his jacket and hanging it up on the hook behind him instead.

"Wow, Benji, you actually made it in before Barret, I'm impressed," Ruth says, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she unzips her pencil case and sets her supplies out in front of her.

"I know, right? Let's hope I can keep it up til the end of the semester," Benji says with a chuckle.

"Honestly, I'm a bit worried about the final exam. I feel like I haven't really improved that much from the beginning."

"It's hard to see the difference yourself but I promise you, you've definitely made progress. When you look at the rest of your portfolio you'll definitely see it."

"You're probably right…" Ruth says, rubbing her chin with her hand. "By the way, I wonder who the model will be this week. Hope they're hot."

"The guys have been but I can't tell with the girls. They were probably… pretty?"

"To be fair, there's something beautiful about all of them," Ruth says with a smile as she sharpens one of her blunted pencils.

"Yeah, that's true…" Benji mutters, before he swallows and lets his eyes drift to where Mia sat alone.

"Hey, didn't you and Mia used to be bffs? You two sat together all the time until a few weeks ago," Ruth says, leaning in to whisper in Benji's ear.

Benji bristles. "We had… a disagreement."

"Well, if you ever wanna talk about it, you know I won't snitch on you…"

"Okay, good to know. Thanks..." Benji says noncommittally. "Anyway… Kappa Sig is having a party next weekend and I might break my almost four years of being teetotal and get completely sloshed before finals because I'm fucking stressed. You wanna come? They probably won't let me in unless I bring a girl with me. You know, ratios."

"You sure that's a good idea? I'm not a big partier. Wouldn't you rather just come over to my place and we can drink in the peace and quiet?"

He pretends to think about it. "I mean I'm not either but once in a while it's kinda nice."

"Well, we'll see," Ruth says. "I don't know if my boyfriend would be okay with it. He's always telling me horror stories about what happens at these parties."

"If your boyfriend tries to tell you what to do you should just dump him," Benji says with a roll of his eyes before he stares at his cuticles.

Ruth frowns. "I'm not gonna dump him. He's just looking out for me."

"Hmm…" is all Benji can say.

Before he can think of a more engaging response, Professor Barret enters from the corridor across the room, not the main door, and holds the door open. The room is packed, each seat arranged in a circle occupied by a person at an easel. Behind Professor Barret, a familiar figure enters and Benji can feel his mouth go dry instantly. He swallows.

Victor strides into the room wearing a long black robe, his cheeks a bit flushed but not enough to be noticeable unless observed by a trained eye. He fiddles with the fabric of his robe before undoing the front and shrugging it off him, depositing it on the black meridienne behind him as he stares at the wall.

Benji's mouth drops open and he catches himself, averting his lustful gaze from Victor's nether regions just as his subject looks in his direction; Victor's Adam's apple bobs as his eyes dart away, too. The sound of pencils and charcoal scratching at paper fills the air of the room that Benji has suddenly realized is hotter than he has anticipated it to be. He gets right to work doing his warm-up drawings, making his best attempt to capture the essence of Victor's presence even if he only has a few minutes to do so.

Didn't think he had it in him… Benji thinks with a smirk as Victor turns around and stretches his arms behind him, showing off his taut backside. He clears his throat; he needs to be professional.

Tilting his head to the side, Benji draws the tattoo on Victor's shoulder blade, which he had never actually gotten a good look at until now, in the proper lighting of the classroom. Four almost photorealistic carnations, intricately detailed but with line work that isn't too thick or overwhelming, in red, pink and white and contrasting with the warm brown of Victor's skin. Benji wonders how long Victor had to sit for something so meticulous, and how much it must have hurt to have a needle jabbing at him thousands and thousands of times. He'd always wanted some tattoos himself but never had the money for them or a decision on the desired placement. Regardless, it was as if each time he saw Victor he learned something new about him and found something new to be enthralled by.

The room is quiet aside from the sound of the artists at work. Benji peers at Victor from behind his easel, taking notes of the parts of him he'd seen up close many times before. He bites back a smile as Victor sits down on the meridienne and rests his elbows on the back of it, spreading his legs apart; his eyes rest on Benji, as if to say "Come here." It takes everything in Benji to refuse the pull of Victor's gaze. At least for now.

Despite Victor's confident pose, Benji can see the way his chest rises and falls sporadically, as if he is trying his best to contain himself as twenty pairs of eyes observe him. He breathes deeply through his nose to calm down, his mouth set in a downturned arch. Benji doesn't know if he would be able to handle the heat of scrutiny himself; he likes being looked at, but something about strangers seeing him unadorned, in his most natural state, with no facade—Benji feels as if it would break him. But with Victor's pupils glued to him, Benji hopes no one else notices the way their eyes catch each other in an unshakable hold.

"Shit," Benji curses under his breath as his charcoal pencil drops from his hand and rolls across the floor. He rises quickly and bends over to pick it up, not realizing his short-clad ass is all but right in front of Victor's face.

When Benji returns to his seat, Victor has crossed his legs and changed his pose to one where he is resting against the back of the meridian, still upright, with his arm propping up his head as he sets his sight on something that isn't Benji, but it does nothing to dampen his arousal. He wishes Victor would look at him again. But he pushes that thought away, cheeks burning, as he returns to his paper, drawing Victor in his new pose.

Professor Barret makes her rounds to the students, pointing out areas where they can improve. When she arrives beside Benji, she raises an eyebrow as she takes the red-rimmed glasses off the crown of her shirt black hair and and puts them on to examine his work.

"Are you okay?" She asks, a ghost of a smile hovering over her thin lips, eyebrows knit together in concern. "You're shaking and sweaty."

"I'm fine, professor. Just hoping I've improved from last week, is all," Benji lies, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Relax, kid. You always do well at this. The attention to detail is stunning, but you could stand to lighten the lines a bit, the chiaroscuro is… dramatic. You're unusually heavy-handed today."

"Oh. Thank you, professor. I'll try."

"You have good eyesight, too, Benji. But watch the perspective," she says knowingly, before she departs to critique the rest of his classmates.

Benji exhales relief and returns to his drawing, switching out his charcoal for a pencil again. He remembers Professor Barret's words and puts less pressure on the paper as he draws. When he flips a few pages further into his sketch pad, he can feel the deep ridges left behind. Ruth chuckles from beside him and he shoots her a glare.

The professor calls for them to take a short break, and Victor pulls his robe back on as he shakes out his limbs. Benji watches him, making his way toward Victor, only to be cut off by a horde of other students swarming toward him. Frowning, Benji crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.

"That's the guy you were telling me about, right?" Ruth asks, nudging Benji in the arm as she goes to take a sip of water from a bottle. "I'm guessing you weren't expecting him?"

"Yeah… I mean I told him about it but I wasn't expecting him to take it seriously. He's ballsy as fuck."

"I'll say… but yeah he's definitely hot. The pictures you showed me don't do him justice."

"Ugh I know, right?"

"Why don't you go and talk to him?"

"Doesn't look like I would even get a chance to, he has a whole fan club now."

Ruth giggles and Mia shoots them a look again as she stands beside her easel alone. Victor raises his eyes to Benji from within the crowd and smiles at him before returning to his conversation.

"Barret was so funny asking if you were sick when you're just horny," Ruth says as she erupts into peals of laughter and Benji smacks her arm playfully.

"Shut up, I am not."

"Bro… you look like you belong in an ice bath. Or better yet a cold shower. And you can't tell me you aren't at least a little bit jealous of all the attention here getting."

Benji wants to retort but all he can do is bury his face in his hands as the professor resumes the class.

Victor strips his robe off again, this time without hesitation, before he takes a seat in the middle of the chaise longue, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands, a smirk playing at his lips as he raises his gaze to the ceiling. Benji gapes at the way Victor's biceps tense, the way his quadriceps look as if they would pop out from beneath his flesh. Something about the image makes Benji want to keep it as a snapshot in his own mind, hidden away from the prying eyes of others.

Keep it professional… Benji thinks as he shades in the lean musculature of Victor's frame, remembering the way he feels against the pads of Benji's fingers especially since he can't touch him now.

He presses his mouth closed tightly in an almost nonexistent segment as he outlines one of Victor's hands that he can see peeking out from the nook of his knee, and all Benji can think about is how soft yet rough they feel when they're on him, the weight of them pushing down on his back as his face presses into the mattress, gripping at his hips tightly and leaving crescent marks in their wake, squeezing his neck just hard enough for it to feel good, leaving red prints behind on his ass, wrapped around his—

Snap.

"Fuck."

Benji reaches for his sharpener and takes a deep breath. He doesn't pay any mind to the curious glances cast in his direction. But his shorts are too tight and he thinks that maybe the circulation to his brain has been impeded by all the blood going to his dick right now.

Soon Victor gets into his final pose as he reclines against one of the pillows on the meridienne, letting his head fall back as his feet plant themselves like two stumps forcing their roots through the floor, one bent at the knee and the other stretched out a bit, and he lets his arms rest above his head, digits linking together loosely in what one could call surrender, face serene, relaxed, finding Benji across the room once more. But Benji can see the power behind Victor's eyes; he knows what he is capable of; but Benji shoves that thought aside, focusing on what his own hands can do instead.

The session ends and Victor pulls his robe back on as Benji and his classmates submit their completed drawings to Professor Barret. As usual, Benji takes his time putting away his things and watches as some of his classmates go to chat with Victor again.

He watches with a curled up lip, pointed canines glinting, as one of his classmates approaches Victor with a little piece of paper in her hand and splotches of red on her face. She smiles shyly as she hands it to him, and Victor shakes his head, saying something Benji doesn't catch as his gaze darts to Benji for a split-second, and the girl's expression falters. Then she withdraws her hand and waves awkwardly before all but running out of the room. Victor cringes and scratches the back of his head as the rest of the students empty out of the room, followed by Professor Barret, who wishes them a good weekend before dashing and saying something about traffic getting out of Atlanta.

Once door swings closed and they're left alone, Benji stops pretending to fiddle with his supplies. He rises from his stool, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts as he crosses the chasm between him and Victor.

"Hey, I wasn't expecting to see you here so soon," Benji says as he pulls Victor to him and kisses him on the cheek.

Victor returns the gesture, lips lingering before he pulls away, eyes twinkling like little pools of stars on his visage. "Hey. I figured I would surprise you."

"Well, you definitely did. Are you sure that was your first time modeling? You're a natural," Benji says, playing with the ends of his hair and the belt of Victor's robe simultaneously. He notices that Victor is wearing different cologne today; he smells more like spice and musk than wood.

Scrunching his mouth to the side, Victor removes Benji's hand from him. "Thank you… it was… a bit different from what I expected it to be but by the end I didn't feel as awkward."

"Oh really? Why's that?"

"Well… I guess I got used to being looked at. It also helped that one of my favorite artists was in the audience right there," Victor says, pointing to the spot where Benji had sat minutes before.

Benji rolls his eyes and Victor pokes him gently on the nose. He can't help but smirk. Victor is too cute for his own good and he knows it. "You're so corny."

"That definitely… rhymes with how I'm feeling right now," Victor teases, his face reddening again.

"Oh my god," Benji says, covering his face with his palms. "I can't believe that girl tried giving you her number, you're such a dork."

"Not everyone has a functioning gaydar," Victor says with a shrug and Benji laughs.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Benji says: "Anyway… I spent all of class thinking about fucking you and my professor thought I was sick which is a bit humiliating but it's fine I guess. I'm fine."

"Is that why every time I see you, you're wearing less and less clothing? Although it's hard to call what you're wearing 'clothing' since it leaves so little to the imagination," Victor teases.

"This was unplanned but… maybe so," Benji says with a devilish grin. "I've been getting a bit overheated lately."

"Well…" Victor whispers in Benji's ear, making him shiver, "you just spent over two hours staring at my bare ass. Don't you think it's only fair for you to return the favor?"

"I didn't get to touch it," Benji says with a pout.

Victor takes Benji's hands in his own and brings them to his backside, gasping softly as Benji kneads the tight flesh through the fabric of his robe. Benji chuckles as Victor touches his middle, sliding his fingers like little fiery coals under his crop top as he leans down to kiss Benji's neck. Victor turns them around and shoves Benji down onto the meridienne before climbing on top of him and pressing his mouth against the other's chest.

Benji slides his shirt over his head and discards it before letting his head drop back against the pillow beneath him. He threads his digits through Victor's hair as the other trails kisses down his body, stopping just above the waistband of his shorts.

"You're onto something, Victor. We should christen this thing 'cause it's new," Benji says, bucking his hips up as Victor unzips him and strips him down to his underwear.

"And you're sure we won't get in trouble for this?" Victor asks.

"Oh, come on. I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't sure," Benji says as he pulls his underwear off, gaze hovering over Victor's lips for a moment before flitting back to his face.

"If you say so…" Victor says, narrowing his eyes with a sly smile, before he takes Benji's already hard cock into his mouth.

"Fuck you and your—ah—mouth, Victor Salazar," Benji grits out, tugging at the short hair at the nape of Victor's neck.

Chortling, Victor lets Benji's dick pop out from between his lips as he pushes Benji's legs up against his rib cage—after all, he knows Benji is pretty flexible—and all he can do is hold the backs of his thighs and breathe out tiny moans as Victor licks down his cock and then along his balls before prodding at his hole with his tongue. Benji can't help but feel spoiled with the way Victor seems to genuinely enjoy going down on him. He bites the back of his arm, shuddering, Victor slides a finger inside him. But he wants to return the favor. And he wants Victor to take that stupid fucking robe off.

"Wait, Victor," Benji says, clearing his throat as he sets his legs back down on the meridienne.

"You okay?" Victor asks, eyebrows pressed together in concern, and Benji can't stop himself from reaching out and resting a hand on Victor's cheeks

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just… I wanna suck your dick while you eat my ass, is all," Benji says.

Victor sits up, raising an eyebrow. He glances to the side, stroking his chin for a moment before saying: "How?"

Benji snorts as he pushes Victor back gently against the surface of the chaise longue. "It's okay, baby, I know your brain is a little overworked."

Reclining backward on his elbows, Victor watches as Benji tucks his hair behind his ear and turns around so both of his knees rest on each side of Victor's head as he straddles his face. When Benji leans down to undo Victor's robe and finally open that annoying piece of fabric, Victor can't help but shudder at the cool air striking his overheated skin.

With a sigh of delight, Benji takes Victor's thick, throbbing, leaking cock into his hands, practically drooling at the sight. When Victor brings his hand down against his ass with a loud smack, Benji can't help the upward twitch of his lip that adorns his face as he glances over his shoulder to see the familiar red shape pulsating angrily against his flesh, his dick feeling even harder than it had a moment ago as a result. Benji lowers himself and takes Victor's erection into his mouth just as Victor pulls his hips down so he can lap at Benji's hole again.

As Victor thrusts his finger inside Benji, muttering about how tight and fucking decadent Benji's ass is, Benji can only moan around Victor cock as he pushes it farther into the back of his throat. It's getting progressively more difficult to focus on sucking his dick as Victor adds more fingers, curling them inside and finding Benji's prostate with ease and making it harder and harder for Benji to hold himself up on his knees. Eyebrows crashing together and face contorting in pleasure, Benji supports himself on his elbows, thanking whatever higher power is out there that Victor is strong enough to hold him up so Benji doesn't crush him. It would be too embarrassing to have to explain what happened in the emergency room.

When Victor thrusts into Benji's throat, groaning at the sensation of Benji relaxing around him, pliable at his touch, Benji can only let his eyes roll back in his head as Victor's thrusts become more erratic and he fills Benji up with his cum with a moan. And Benji chokes but swallows it, sucking Victor dry and emptying his cock as sperm drips out of his nose.

Wiping his nose in the back of his arm, Benji rests his head on Victor's stomach as he stretches him more, adding another finger as he moves his other hand down to stroke Benji's erection. Even though Victor has already cum once, he shows no sign of slowing down, wrist twisting inside Benji as he continues touching him; Benji whines, knowing he'll cum soon if Victor keeps it up but not wanting to before he can properly feel Victor's thick cock inside him.

Humming, Victor smacks Benji's ass one more time for good measure before removing his fingers and making Benji pout at the loss.

"Make yourself comfortable and I'm gonna go get a condom and lube..." Victor says, glancing at Benji's face before he adds, "and I'll bring you some water and tissues because you look like a mess. Sorry about that."

"Thanks. I feel like I just snorted your cum," Benji says, his voice hoarse and nasally. "It happens, though. You know, it's part of the game and all that."

When Victor returns, bearing gifts, Benji gulps down half of a bottle of water in one go before offering it to Victor, grateful. Once he can breathe again, Benji positions himself with his elbows over the back of the medienne.

It only takes Victor a few minutes to get hard again, and he strokes himself a few times before rolling the condom on and lubing up. He kneels behind Benji, kissing his shoulder before sliding inside, sheathing himself as Benji thrusts back against him. Victor buries his face in the crook of Benji's neck, cocooning him in his embrace, before he pulls out and slips back in again slowly. He builds up to a quicker rhythm soon, delighting in the soft whimpers and moans falling from Benji's lips as he weaves his fingers through Victor's hair as if he intends to fuses their heads together.

Victor bends Benji over every surface he can find—over the desk, over some of the tables in the back of the room, over the counter where they keep spare supplies—and Benji knows his legs will give out at any moment when Victor presses him up against the glass of the door, not even bothering to pull the little curtain down to give them some privacy.

But Benji wouldn't even care if anyone saw them because as he's too far gone, his brain transported to a world where the only thing that matters is the sensation of Victor plowing into him until he cums so hard, seeing stars, that he doesn't even have to be touched. He's lost track of how many times he'd cum that day. And when his muscles contract around Victor's cock, Victor moans into his ear as he cums for a second time.

Benji can feel himself sliding down the slippery surface of the door when Victor pulls out of him, but the strong hands around him stop him from collapsing in a heap on the floor. Victor's lips on his forehead awaken him from his daze as Victor cleans him up.

"All good?" Victor asks, as Benji has come to expect.

"Holy shit…" Benji says after a moment, as he slowly pulls on his clothes with shaky limbs, wondering if he will even have the motor skills to hold onto anything for the rest of the week.

Once Benji has a chance to drink some more water, almost spilling on himself in the process, he sighs. Victor watches him, finally dressing in his own clothes and not the robe that Benji has come to despise. Benji could fall asleep on this plush cushions of the meridienne but he knows he shouldn't. He lets Victor pull him up and leans against him. How the hell does this guy have so much stamina?

They leave the classroom in comfortable, spent silence after ensuring everything within is spotless, washing their hands, and fixing their appearance as best as they could. Their fingers brush together as they walk through the corridor, and if Benji wanted to, he could reach out and take Victor's hand. He thinks about it. Just as the gears in his cranium boot up, Victor stops in his tracks.

"Isn't that your friend Mia?" He asks, gesturing to one of the lit classrooms, which ironically used to be where Benji used to spend most of his evenings. Inside, Mia stands over a metal sculpture of what looks like a giant bird with tongues of metal fire around it.

"Uhh… yeah. Why?"

"Don't you wanna go say hi to her? I saw her in class but I didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself. Maybe we can study together?"

"I—sure, why the hell not..." Benji mutters to himself as Victor pushes open the door gently. "I just remembered I have a painting I need to finish up, anyway..."

Mia looks up from her sculpture, eyes sparkling as she sets her gaze on Victor. Benji approaches cautiously, and when Mia's gaze lands on him, her face instantly falls, expression sour. She shifts her jaw to the side and licks at her teeth as she looks between them.

"Hi, Mia, nice to meet you, I'm Victor," he says, offering her his hand.

She sets her torch aside and shakes his hand. "Hi. I've heard… a lot about you."

"Oh, uh, that's cool. I like your sculpture, by the way. Phoenixes are sick."

"Thank you. Anyway… What are you two love birds doing here?" Mia says, putting on what Benji knows is her best fake smile as she takes her torch from the table.

Victor says: "Well, we were just uh—".

"Fucking," Mia says, cutting him off and glaring at Benji as she brandishes her torch. "Because obviously no consequences will come of it, right? Benji can just do whatever he wants with whoever he wants whenever he wants and not listen to anyone else, right?"

Benji swallows, gritting his teeth. Victor raises an eyebrow and gives Benji a look, as if he knows he's just led them both into a lion's den.

"Okay, so I'm sensing some tension between you two…" Victor says, raising his hands in front of him in surrender.

"There's no tension," Mia says, grinning wider, and the fact that it doesn't reach her eyes makes Benji's stomach drop. "I'm just kinda busy here and you're kinda ruining my mojo."

"I have some work I need to finish. You don't own this room," Benji says to Mia, pointed, as he takes the painting he started a few days ago—an art nouveau and surrealist-inspired piece depicting half of a face with dark eyes, brown skin and dark hair, floating amidst a field of waves and starry galaxies.

"There's like a hundred other rooms you can use instead. Why don't you go find your new BFF Ruth?" Mia says, and the words are like brands in Benji's eardrums.

"Looks like my little plan for a study party isn't gonna happen," Victor mutters more to himself than anyone else.

"She's not my new BFF," Benji says with a sigh.

"Whatever. But that painting sure looks familiar. And you know what I said about that…"

Benji sees a flash of red in his mind's eye and before he can stop himself, he snaps.

"At least my art doesn't look like it could be some old lady's lawn ornament," Benji all but shouts.

"Literally fuck off, Benjamin," Mia replies, throwing a rolled up piece of aluminum foil at him. "Consider yourself uninvited to my Christmas party, too."

Benji knows that if it were anything heavier, it would leave a mark. But Mia's words sting him right down to his core as if he'd just drank molten lava.

"Fine. We're going," Benji says, as he grabs Victor's wrist and pulls him out the door.

"It was nice meeting you!" Victor calls as he waves to Mia, who gives him an awkward wave.

When they are out in the corridor, the door to the room closed behind them, Benji wipes the corner of his eye before he turns to Victor and says: "Sorry you had to see that."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Victor asks, as always, so gentle.

"No thanks," Benji breathes. He leads them to one of the empty rooms and sets his painting down on an easel. "It's… sorta private.

Victor nods, sitting beside him and staring at Benji's profile for a moment before he says: "I understand."

Benji knows Victor can only imagine, but as he puts his brush to the canvas, seeing the doppelganger of the man sitting beside him, swimming in the scenery created by his own mind, he wonders if it's even important at all.