You and your relatively new boyfriend, Andrew, are definitely quite an artistic couple. With him being a musician and you an artist, at least one of you are occupied with your profession on the day to day. Whether is Andrew working on a new song or you on a new piece.

Today, it’s you that’s hyper-focused on a new masterpiece.

The quiet, soft hum of music filled the air of the small, yet cozy art room. You sat on an old, but comfortable, stool. Your focus solely on the canvas before your. Brushes and paint splatters lay all over the desk, and specks of dried paint could be seen on your clothes. Your brow was furrowed slightly in concentration, your brush moving with precise, yet fluid, movements over the canvas.

Andrew soon quietly entered the room, taking care not to disturb you from your art. He was wearing a pair of grey, baggy sweatpants, some grey socks, and a thin, forest green robe over his shoulders, though not tied, leaving his thin torso on display. His shoulder length, curly locks had also been tied back half-up, half-down, keeping the strands out of his face.

He had paused for a moment to watch the way your brow pinched in focus, and how your hand moved with precision across the canvas. He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes admiring the beauty of your mere existence.

However, he couldn't help but notice how your hair kept falling into your face as you painted. It seemed like it was getting you frustrated. But he also knew that you were too deep in focus to get up and find a hair tie.

He also noticed your attempt to brush it away with your paint-covered hands, leaving smudges across your forehead. He approached gently, a small smile on his face.

"Hey, love," he murmured softly, coming to stand beside you. "You've got paint all over your forehead." He reached out to gather your locks in his hands, creating a makeshift ponytail, his touch light and affectionate.

“Would you like my hair bobble?”