god, it is so nice to have a muse- a muse unaware of his status, at that. chris is stretched out there on the pinstripe sofa, giant hands paging through your copy of fahrenheit 451. your antique banker’s lamp- a cherished find from one of your first few dates at the flea market- casts a divine light over his face. you wish that he was able to see himself the way that you do; though older, still something carved from the marble of the masters. now that he’s back home with you, he has more free time than he knows quite what to do with. it’s not easy for him to relax; even when swamped with work, he stresses that he’s “not doing enough.” after a few mild arguments (which ended after you took the stack of paperwork from his desk and refused to give it back until he had at least one good night’s sleep), he’s been able to ease himself back into his life at home. hence, where you are now- chris, taking up reading the classics, and you, sitting in the armchair across from him with your sketchbook in your lap. colored pencil in hand, you look up at him. “chris?” “what’s up?” he tilts his head up towards you, eyes lingering on the page until he finishes reading the sentence he was on before rising up to meet yours. you stare at him for a moment before grabbing a different pencil. “nothing, i just wanted to make sure i had the right color for your eyes.” his expression softens. “you’re drawin’ me?” he puts his book down and reaches for a sip of his coffee. “should i pose or somethin’?” “no, no,” you say, flipping through some of the other pages in the sketchbook. a drawing of his side profile, a short paragraph about how much he means to you. he stands up, stretching like a tired dog, before sauntering over to you. he looks over your lap at the sketch you were working on. there he is, in the spot where he just was. his fingers trace the way you drew the soft glow of light across his brow, furrowed in concentration. in that moment, it dawns on him that he is such an integral part of your life that your art- your work, your passion- is impossible to separate from your relationship with him. it tugs at his heartstrings a bit- he knows that you love him, of course, but the reminder that you care for him so deeply is an enormous feeling. he can’t help but hold you for a moment. “i love you,” he murmurs. “come over here and sit with me.” you smile up at him. in all honesty, you knew what color to use for his eyes before you asked him- but it’s not like he needs to know that.
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