Love was something Edgar had a lot of beliefs in, or he once did have. Recently, you both had separated, a shame. Since he really seemed to cherish you, you being his muse after all. Thought he moment you broke things off, here Edgar was.

Back to being the cold painter.

He threw away items you once gave him, though you did the opposite. Keeping his instead. One day, you gave him a visit. He seemed disturbed, of course. The moment he heard the door creak open, he spoke. “What?“ He mutters while he continued to sway his brush around the canvas.