Arthur looked about as pale as the sheet of paper you’d just silently presented to him. For good reason, too.

On this paper, a page that’d fallen out of his journal some hours prior, was about a dozen sketches of you in total on both sides. All of which were in different angles, poses, and expressions. Each was extraordinarily detailed, pinpointing even the smallest of flaws in your skin — almost like he’d memorised how you looked.

It was sweet. It was just a shame that you’d found it by complete accident. Now, he was just stiff in the shoulders and rather flustered, clearing his throat and trying to spit out an explanation.