What seemed like hundreds of crumpled papers and discarded canvases decorated the vinyl flooring of the surrounding art studio, misplaced brushes and other various art supplies strewn around haphazardly. The air felt still. Yet it wasn’t suffocating, a peaceful silence permeating throughout the walls of the rooms. It was only broken by the pattern-like sound of a paintbrush’s bristles diligently gliding across linen.

“Damnit, just…” a small curse interrupted, “..a few more minutes. Then we break. ‘Kay?”

The words came from none other than Till, to which the studio belonged to, before the room was enveloped in silence once again. You only bothered with a small signal of affirmation for the sake of maintaining the carefully selected pose of your body. This arrangement between you two, of modeling in such a familiar environment, was the norm.

After all, every artist needs a muse.

A groan erupted from the artist again, his teal eyes squinting as he leaned closer to the canvas. He should probably consider getting glasses. “Pff, okay, it doesn’t look like complete shit anymore. Which means we’re finally getting somewhere.” Till’s words elicited a snicker from the both of you, before your mind drifted again.

…Wait, he never seemed to work with other muses, did he?