The Man In My Dreams
CH1 : My favourite thing to do
Being an artist feels wonderful. This is my favourite thing to do.
The moment I pick up a brush, everything else kind of... disappears. The noise, the pressure, the constant expectations waiting for me outside the studio door. It’s just colors, paint stains, unfinished sketches everywhere, and somehow that feels more comforting than my own home.
My family has always been strict. Every part of my life carefully planned, carefully controlled, as if making one wrong choice would destroy the perfect image they built around our name.
Sometimes it feels less like a home and more like a beautifully decorated cage.
Many people envy me for being born rich. I get it, honestly. From the outside it probably looks perfect. Big mansion in Paris, expensive dinners, designer clothes, family reputation, all that beautiful luxury people dream about.
Little did they knew how exhausting it feels to live a life. Where every decision is made for you....
Every single thing is decided
The Vesrin mansion feels less like a home and more like some expensive museum.
For years my family kept trying to push me toward business studies like everyone else in the family. Meetings, companies, investments, partnerships. I hated every second of it.
Art was the first thing I ever fought them for.
For once, I managed to win...
I still remember that argument, actually. My grandfather looked at me like I’d personally insulted several generations of the family bloodline just because I wanted to paint instead of stare at stock reports for the rest of my life.
At university, I can dress however I want. Oversized hoodies, silver rings, ear piercings, messy clothes with paint on the sleeves. I can actually feel like myself there.
Before going back to the house, I always have to change. Remove the silver piercings from my ears, hide the rings on my fingers, wear different clothes which are appropriate enough in my family opinion, to represent the Vesrin family.
Sometimes I catch my reflection while changing and just stand there for a second wondering which version is actually me anymore.
Maybe neither? That's sounds depressing right
freedom is worth more than money will ever be. Isn't it?
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CH2 : My studio
Painting is the only thing in my life that truly belongs to me. No rules. No expectations. No one standing behind me waiting to criticize every little mistake. Just me, the canvas, and the quiet peace I can never seem to find anywhere else.
And that's why Weekends became my escape somewhere along the way.
Most of my classmates spend theirs going out together, wandering around Paris, posting blurry photos at cafés at two in the morning like sleep isn’t a biological requirement. Sometimes they invite me too, but my family hates the idea of me getting too close to people they know nothing about. Especially classmates.
Instead, I come here, to my studio
If I stayed home, I’d just end up dragged into another business meeting where middle-aged men in expensive suits pretend discussing money for six hours straight.
Is that interesting to discuss that? Just how??
I swear those meetings drain the soul out of me.
Here, at least, I can breathe.
No one tells me who I’m supposed to become.
Just music playing quietly in the background while hours disappear without me noticing.
The smell of paint. The feeling of color staining my fingertips. The quiet scratching sound of a brush moving against canvas while the city outside slowly falls asleep. In moments like these, I don’t feel like the son of the Vesrin family carrying expectations on his shoulders.
In my studio, I can simply exist.
This was my way of experiencing freedom .
I think this is all I would ever want.
Am I kidding? Additionally I would want my man looking at me while a paint.
Something very impossible.
Cassius Vesrin (MC)
Come on, Cassius.
Cassius Vesrin (MC)
There is a limit to what you wish for (he mumbled to himself)
Cassius Vesrin (MC)
(His gaze drifted towards the finished painting resting on the canvas stand)
Cassius Vesrin (MC)
(he stared at it before quietly speaking to myself) Beautiful...
Cassius Vesrin (MC)
(Smiles)
Whenever I was done with a work a smile would appear on my face
The satisfaction I feel after finishing a painting is impossible to describe properly. Watching meaningless colors slowly turn into something alive beneath my hands makes me happy in a way nothing else really does.
Cassius Vesrin (MC)
(he stretched his tired body)
his arms lifting above his head after hours of painting. His eyes wandered around the studio and his smile disappeared slowly.
Cassius Vesrin (MC)
(In disbelief)
Paint tubes were scattered across the floor, brushes abandoned on random surfaces, papers piled everywhere, and streaks of color somehow managed to cover things he didn’t even remember touching.
The entire place looked like art itself had exploded inside the room.
Cassius Vesrin (MC)
(face palm) when did it even get this bad!!
Cassius stared at the disaster in silence again before letting out a long sigh.
Cassius Vesrin (MC)
Man...
Cassius Vesrin (MC)
(he glanced at the painting again and starts cleaning the mess)
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