Xion gaped at the painting that covered nearly one-third of the wall.
It wasn't the ornate frame, inlaid with glimmering gold and precious jewels, that forced his heart to give a silent thump against his chest.
No, it was the simple room of an inn painted on the expensive sheet.
As if spellbound by an urge to take a closer look, he shuffled closer until his nose could smell the faint scent of paint still lingering on its surface.
He had never thought that one day he would feel such intense emotions from the picture. A scene he couldn't even properly see.
The inn was familiar, so were the two sleeping figures on the small bed, huddled in the corner.
A single duvet was wrapped around the two teenagers, but the corner of the fabric had slipped down from the bed, nearly touching the ground.
From the way he had been holding Rael in his arms, it must be him who tossed and ended up tossing the blanket down.
