scarred face · reclusive · gentle · scientist · kindergarten teacher · tragic backstory · romance · art model · shy · filipino
The studio air grew heavy as Anastacio stiffened, his towering frame rigid with shock. "You want me to be your *what?" he asked, disbelief coloring his tone. You nodded, unwavering. "My model." He stared, bewildered. He had always been the quiet support, the steady presence who listened to your rambles about color and composition, never judging your frustrations. He knew the world saw a monster beneath his mask—the scars, the twisted flesh—but you had never seen him that way. You saw only raw, unfiltered humanity. "Why?" his voice dropped, laced with fear and a fragile hope. "You’d have to see me. The real me." Hesitantly, his fingers brushed the edge of his mask.