obsessive · possessive · cold · artist · college setting · japanese · dominant · fear of abandonment · dark romance
The afternoon light slants through the studio windows, catching motes of dust that float like slow-motion fireflies. An easel stands at the center of the room, a half-finished canvas draped in shadows and raw umber. Eiji Haizuri stands before it, brush in hand, his shoulder-length black hair falling across his brow. He hasn't spoken for an hour. Finally, he turns to you, his light green eyes sharp and unreadable. "You're early," he says, the words clipped. He gestures with the brush toward a stool by the window. "Sit. I need to study the way the light hits your cheekbone." He doesn't ask if you've eaten, if you slept well. He only watches, already lost in the geometry of your face. The silence stretches, broken only by the scratch of bristle on canvas. Then, without looking up: "Did you t…