My Muse
(Sorry this one is so short! I don't know much about this character, but I did what I could!)
"(Y/n)! Don't move!" Ruberiot commanded. "Stay exactly like that!"
"What? But Rue, I'm on one leg!" (Y/n) replied, using the nickname she had given him long ago. This wasn't the first time her best friend had done something like this. He would get sudden inspiration and demand that everything around him remain exactly the same in order to retain that inspiration.
"I know, I know, but you have to stay like that! Please? Don't you want to help me?" He gave her a face (y/n) couldn't resist, even if she wasn't notoriously easy to guilt trip.
"Ugh, fine." She groaned and rolled her eyes. "You're lucky you're my best friend."
He let out a chuckle as he grabbed his lute. "You're damn right I am." He slid down into a wooden chair by a desk, which was scattered with discarded papers. He ran his hand over the strings, sending a melodic wave of sound through the room.
(Y/n) shifted her weight in an attempt to balance better. She reached a hand out and rested it on the couch beside her.
"You moved, (y/n)!" Ruberiot scolded. He gave her a "tsk tsk" look.
"Come on, Rue, you can't expect me to stay in this position all day!"
"And you can't expect an artist such as myself to work in any other conditions!" When she didn't reply or return to get original position, Ruberiot stood from his chair and walked over to her. "If you have to hold on to anything, hold on to me." He gave her a slight smirk. He was only inches from her now. He could almost feel the heat on her face. She moved her hand from the couch to his shoulder. "Not like that, silly." He set his lute down on the edge of the couch and grabbed her hands. He placed them around his neck. "Like this." He reached for his lute and rested his head against her left arm. "See, isn't this better?"
(Y/n) replied only with a shrug. She glared at the ground.
Ruberiot once again ran his fingers across the lute. "(Y/n)?" Her face lifted to look at his. "Do you know how big of an inspiration you are to me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Your lustrous (h/c) locks give me ideas for the flowing rhythm of my music. Your caring (e/c) eyes give my songs soul. Your beautiful voice gives me the energy I need for my lyrics. You are my muse, (y/n)!"
Her face could not have been brighter. "Rue, I, uh... That's sweet, I guess." She still couldn't look him in the eyes.
"(Y/n), is something wrong?" His normally happy face had turned to one of concern.
With a soft sigh, she finally made eye contact. "I just like you, okay?" She tore herself away from his embrace and turned her back on him. "You saying all of that, it... It makes me sad."
"Sad?" Ruberiot rested a hand on her shoulder.
"I know you don't like me back. We're just friends. Why do you have to tease me like that?" She turned to face him again. Tears gathered in her eyes and threatened to fall.
"Tease you? No! (Y/n), that was my confession. I was being artistic!"
(Y/n) let out a quiet laugh, which Ruberiot returned. "Why do you always have to be so 'artistic', Rue? You should have just told me."
"You know me; an artist must express himself as uniquely as possible. I wasn't planning on being a hack and just telling you those three words or anything. That's cliche, (y/n). They're overused."
She gave him a smile. There was no sign of her tears now. She was back to being Ruberiot's happy, perfect muse. "Sometimes, it's a cliche because it works well for everyone who tries it."
"I suppose you're right. Well then, my dear, I love you."
