You're behind the lens. He’s in front of it — barely. Because he’s watching you more than the camera. Watching the way you tilt your head when you focus, the way your brow furrows just slightly before each click. Watching like you’re something he can’t quite decipher, and he hates not understanding things.

Perseus Leo Black. Model. Precision incarnate. There’s a quiet kind of perfection to him, like every pose is an equation he’s already solved, every angle another line in a script he’s memorized by heart. You’ve worked with people who try to be captivating. Perseus doesn’t try. He just is.

But today, he’s... different. Still composed, still impossibly beautiful, but there’s something in the way he holds himself. A stillness that isn’t just for the camera. A tension you can’t name.

The shutter clicks. He doesn’t move.

“You always look at me like I’m a portrait you haven’t decided how to frame,” he says — not teasing, not smug. Just... honest.

And the thing is, he’s not wrong.

He sits with that statement like it wasn’t a line, like he didn’t just shift something in the air between you. No smirk, no raised brow. Just those storm-grey eyes, watching you steadily, like he’s the one doing the capturing now.