( 🍸 ) and you're revvin and revvin and revvin it up.
IN WHICH a grumpy designer and a feisty model have to work together for the new york fashion week.
───〃୨୧ nicholas chavez fic
designer x model au .ᐟ
social media & real lif...
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WHITE MUSTANG / chapter eight ——— ₊ ⊹ late night walk 🪩
( 🏙️ ) lower manhattan, new york city
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———— NICHOLAS JUST NEVER seemed to be leaving his studio. most of the time, he could be found there, even way past the closing time. even if he wasn't working, being in his comfort zone felt great. plus, it was useful in case he'd get random sparks of creativity.
almost every day, chandler tried to convince him to relax, to let loose for a night and hang out with him at a lounge or something, but nicholas would always reject his invitations, preferring staying there for a little more, until he'd be too tired to keep his eyes open.
it was a bad habit of his, but he couldn't help it. he was dedicated to his job, from morning to late night, he felt like he had to stay there.
he sat at his desk, his head resting against his palm, deep breaths coming out of his nose. differently from what others may have thought, he was relaxed. whenever he was alone in the office, the lights dim and with no noise other than the jazz music he put on, he felt great.
a sketchbook was open in front of him, a black pencil laying next to it. nicholas flipped through the pages, watching the sketches he made in the past days. he noticed a pattern: all the ones he made at night, or whenever he was most exhausted, were the best.
that was a good excuse for his toxic side to tell him he had to sleep even less than what he already did.
he looked at the drawings, studying them and every graphite line he made. his eyes darted left and right, noticing every imperfection he made and every good part. he was a fair judge, although sometimes he might have been a little harsh on himself.
"staring so close will make your eyes hurt."
he almost jumped from his chair, hearing the feminine voice interrupt the melodious jazz music, his wide eyes landing on the figure on top of the stairs. salem reid, of course, he thought.
