#floagreste

     “YOU STILL HAVE this up?” arlo’s pointing to a wall in florian’s room— it’s covered in pieces of paper that contain sketches of the parisian skyline, each 8.5x11’ paper forming the bigger picture with the eiffel tower in the forefront. arlo had even poked holes in the pictures so dainty fairy lights could poke through and twinkle, as if the city were alive. the lights are off at the moment but the pictures still hang. he figures it’s probably a pain in the ass to take them down but he also likes the idea of florian liking something he’s done. it’s not all that fantastic, in arlo’s opinion— it took days to actually do, and he’s much more skilled at sketching portraits rather than buildings and landscape. he’d sketched it for florian as a birthday present and even had someone sneak him into the house after florian left for vienna, so he could see it upon coming home. it kind of warms arlo’s heart to know the man hasn’t taken it down yet, kind of like how florian has yet to take off the necklace that arlo gave him what seems like ages ago.

“someone wants a wedding on easter, but also an easter themed wedding. have you ever imagined? i think my team managed to make it classy, but she’s offended at least two or three old christian family members. why must people be like this.”

NAME: andrés

PICTURE:

LAST TEXT RECEIVED: happy new years!

send me “#” for cell phone headcanons about our muses including: - what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone

the hot french (8

 - what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone

ruin my life - zara larsson

- my muse’s last text to your muse

text: i didn’t mean to call you flo the insurance girl i know you are much more sophisticated

text: not that i follow you really closely online i mean i dont

     HE KEEPS TELLING himself to keep his cool but the fact of the matter is, arlo has it pretty bad for florian. but alas, there’s a lot of factors going into their... whatever this is you’d call it. he has to ease back into it with caution, given the fact that florian had arlo’s heart in his hands and had the power to so easily shatter it with just a mere lie, arlo’s certain he has to be more careful now. and it’s hard, you know? it’s hard to love timidly when throwing yourself into such a thing is all you know. and it’s rather sick, but arlo and florian taking things as they come is only making arlo more lovesick than before. it’s like a school boy crush, the way his heart races when he sees the man’s face. of course, he can’t quite see it right now as he lays on the ground in florian’s bedroom, allowing for a tiny kitten to walk across his chest. arlo’s laughing as it happens— as someone who has never really had a pet, he sure loves other people’s and little marie antoinette is absolutely no exception.

     HOW IRONIC IT is to look at something so beautiful that you want it to be the last thing you ever look at, yet at the same time, you want to see it burst into flames. fresh air was much needed for arlo just a few days after the halloween party— it was a fun time, but he’s the kind of person to dwell on one negative aspect and let it control him. despite getting drunk and having fun with his friends, arlo can’t shake the fact that those words— je ne t’aime pas— actually were uttered from florian agreste’s lips. to be fair, arlo had beckoned the confession out of him but it didn’t mean it hurt any less. it makes him want to skip town. lay low. disappear for a little.

but now he’s flipping through his sketchbook to take a stab at a scenic drawing. while he flips through the pages, he passes the very first few sketches he’d ever done of florian, those days in which he was desperate to have any time with the other man, have any excuse to look at him for a long period of time. but now, looking down at that face feels wrong, like it doesn’t belong to arlo anymore and thus shouldn’t be in his possession. he wants to throw it out; god, all he wants to do is rip it up and throw it in the trash like confetti stuck on the floor after a party but he knows he can’t. he could never do that to florian, not even after everything the man had put him through.

     TIME SEEMS TO slow. and here’s the thing: time can’t fucking slow down, it’s the most constant thing this world knows. and yet the thought, the sound, the sight of florian agreste seems to make arlo question everything he’s ever known about the functions of the universe. and perhaps he’s being dramatic— after all, arlo tends to catch feelings quickly and messily, to the point that it engulfs his consciousness and molds his behavior like a lump of clay. things between them are so fucking delicate that arlo’s afraid to use the wrong words— hell, he’s afraid to speak louder than a whisper. he’s finishing a cigarette: a real sign of how stressed he is. he’s grateful that florian had agreed to meet up after arlo had quite unapologetically stated that they needed to talk. because, well, they do.

there’s a lot to unpack between the two: the fact that florian admitted he was falling in love with arlo despite having a very public girlfriend is just the tip of the iceberg, but it’s definitely the thought that’s weighing the heaviest on him. sitting on the beach late at night, the moon watching from high above him, arlo looks up as he hears footsteps. he puts his cigarette out in the sand and watches as florian sits next to him. “mon amour,” he greets him. “est-ce que tu m'évites?” his voice comes out small as he asks the question, almost terrified to even speak the thought into existence. “if you didn’t mean what you said at the fundraiser, florian,” he fidgets a bit in his spot, shifting his weight and turning to face the heartbreakingly beautiful man next to him. “we can fix this. we can just go–”