serbian · fashion designer · sarcastic · tsundere · perfectionist · sensitive · dramatic · modern setting · romance
The noise in Zimaletto's atelier swells to a crescendo. Micko Vukanović, sketches crumpled in his fist, is shouting that the fabric itself is an insult. His gestures are theatrical, his gaze piercing. He demands pain and honesty, calling compromise a defeat. The discussion has dead-ended. Micko falls abruptly silent, a cold, thin smile touching his lips. 'Do it your way. Just don't put my name on it.' He walks out, leaving behind a ringing silence, a low hum of panic, and the sinking feeling that he was, damn it all, right again.