I Am Tired Of Being A Hero-Chapter 262: Insecure

"The offer to return back to the Capital. It is a good opportunity for you. Any position that you need to get in the Police Force, you can get it easily from the Capital." Ravi licked his lips a bit as if the moisture could help the words that refused to leave his mouth slither out.

He did not want Arlen to go, how could he but Davenport was too small and his boyfriend was too good a police officer to stay here.

"You...I will be al...If you have to go back to your former job, I would support you. I will always support you." Ravi finally said.

"Thank you."

He sounded upset. Pained. Ravi frowned and looked at Arlen more carefully. There was an expression in his eyes that Ravi was just too familiar with. An expression that he had seen when he gazed into the mirror.

That emotion was what had held him back for the longest time. Why was such an emotion in Arlen’s eyes?

Ravi gave his all to think about it.

Why?

Was this the consequence of telling Arlen about a world that was so far bigger than this one; telling him everything about himself? His life? About Alya?

He never imagined that Arlen could ever feel insecure in their relationship and he had not noticed it.

500 years elapsed, and the past had been like a shackle binding his foot, for the longest time, a sentence was buried deep into the bottom of his heart, a yet humbled desire that he could not say aloud.

’I am not enough nor am I worthy?’

That sentence had colored every relationship that Ravi had, tinting it with shades of gray.

Maybe because he had stepped out, he could see himself even more clearly. The years-old past surged like a wave, merging with distant memories at the end of a horizon. He had been continuously struggling to bob up and down within self-doubt and self-demoralization.

The self-doubt and insecurity he had as a human did not fade when he became a Sentinel.

His insecurity had led to a deep inferiority complex. Not even being powerful had done anything to remove what he thought of himself. However, coming to this world and meeting Arlen had been the height of it all.

He would not allow Arlen to have those thoughts. Not when he was just so amazing.

Ravi looked at Arlen, feeling like he understood the crux of the issue clearer now. He had failed to give him an ample sense of security.

The discrepancy between their statuses changed too quickly, Arlen knew his age, what he had seen, and what he had experienced. The more he cared about it, the more it destabilized him.

He loved Arlen’s unbridled self, he did not want him to act so cautious.

"Come. I need to show you something." He said as he reached out to touch Arlen.

The two of them disappeared from the restaurant and appeared back home.

They stood in front of his studio.

Arlen blinked and looked around, "Holy Moly! Just now, I could feel my cells disintegrating." It had been extremely scary but Arlen knew that Ravi would not hurt him no matter what.

"That is because they did," Ravi said innocently as he fished out the key.

"Hey! Hey! Look at me...Ravi, I know you can hear me. Looking cute would not help."

Ravi instantly relaxed his lips but his eyes wrinkled into a smile. He coughed trying to be serious, "I am not crazy, ok?"

Arlen raised one sculpted eyebrow but still nodded.

"Can you nod with a little more conviction?"

Arlen’s lips twitched and he nodded.

Ravi wanted to say that that was too much but he knew he was just delaying. He opened the door and Arlen entered Ravi’s studio for the first time.

There were so many paintings hanging on the wall, many more on easels and the majority of these paintings showed the same person standing, sitting, walking, or lying down.

Arlen saw his own face in the painting and a small trace of goosebumps formed on his back for the briefcase of a second. It was as if he was making eye contact with himself.

He understood why Ravi had insisted he was not crazy.

There was a large oil painting next to him and Arlen felt awe. It was as if he could feel the artist’s devotion and admiration through the strokes of the brush, a passionate and almost obsessive emotion scattered across the painting.

Dozens of oil paintings adorned the room, and at first glance, the vital impact was extremely intense making one want to either hesitate or leave but Arlen smiled and walked in.

But it was not just oil paintings, there were also many sketches. He casually stood in front of one of the drawings, running his fingers over the paper. It was a sketch of him.

He looked at the handsome appearance of the person in the drawing, he looked angry. Arlen peered closer at the background and he made out the place. This was the first place that they met.

His eyes were burning with such righteousness that it made the tips of his ears turn red at the memory.

These paintings were incredibly lifelike, with precise details in the contours and expression, with clean and bright colors; as if the artist had observed the subject from such intricate angles countless times and sketched them in their mind repeatedly to capture such exquisite portraits.

This is how he sees me. How much he likes me. So I can be as selfish as I want.

"Ravi." Arlen learned by the side, wrapping one arm around Ravi’s waist and leaning on his shoulder.

"Shouldn’t you pay me for all these pictures? You used me as a muse without my contest."

"Oh! What kind of payment do you want?"

"Your life. Can you pay with the rest of your eternal life?" For a second, neither of them spoke, the room was so quiet that they could hear the sound of both of them breathing.