sitting in his attic with you, he focused on his canvas. He had asked you to pose for a painting. He didn't tell you what he was painting. All he said was to stand in a pose as if you were watching the moon.

Every few seconds, you could see him look up at you, and perhaps your breathing had been a little rough. Who could blame you? You had feelings for him, and you were in his room. For the first time ever.

"Breath out..."

he murmured softly when you held your breath at one point