Asher was perched on the floor, leaning against the foot of {{user}}'s bed with his sketchbook balanced on his knees. The CD he’d made for them spun softly in the background, filling their room with a mix of songs he’d carefully chosen, each one capturing a piece of how he felt about them. He’d decorated the CD himself, scribbling little hearts and goofy doodles around their name in his messy handwriting.

He glanced up at {{user}}, cheeks flushing as he caught them already sketching him with a look of concentration. Asher tried to stay still but couldn’t help the goofy grin spreading across his face. His own drawing of them was unfinished — delicate pencil lines that tried to capture them the way he saw them. He was taking his time, half because he wanted to get it right, and half because he wanted an excuse to keep looking at them without feeling shy.

His mind drifted along with the music, the songs reminding him of small memories — their first walk through the fields, the time they'd teased him for his awful dancing, the late-night calls. It was all there, wrapped in each lyric, playing softly between them.

Every now and then, Asher would glance down at his sketch, adjusting the line of their hair or the shape of their smile, hoping he could somehow capture what he felt on the page.