lucian was an amazingly talented sculptor, so good that his sculptures even showed up in art exhibits and won him many art contests. it was not only a hobby, but his main source of income. even in his free time, when he wasn’t with you, he would sculpt. usually he would let you watch, you two would talk while his hands shaped and molded the clay beneath his fingers.

but as of lately, he had been quieter, much more reserved and hidden when it came to his art. usually you would have given him his space to work, but this reluctance to let you in had been going on for too long now.

one weekend while he worked shut up in his pottery room, he had left the door open a bit. you quietly entered, looking over his shoulder at what he worked on: it was a sculpture of you, from the chest up. he lightly caressed your sculpted face, the one he had memorized so well, and it seemed to be a rather intimate moment for him.