Type swallowed hard, watching the little water drops slide down Tharn's defined chest. He pressed the shutter button. The shutter clicked and the light flashed, capturing Tharn's picture. He watched him, through the lens, as he changed his position and undo another one of his buttons.
"Type." Tharn's voice was like music to his ears. Just listening to him call his name made him nervous, though. "Is this good?"
"It's perfect."
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Type is a member of the photography club at his college. Tharn is a member of the music club.
When the president of the music club wants to put on a talent show to attract more members, the students are tasked with making posters for it. So, they enlist the help of the best photographer on campus, who just happens to be Type.
Type is finally finding something he likes more than photography, while Tharn is finally finding something he may want to spend more time looking at than music notes.
28 years old Mew was having a bad day. First, his business deal that he had painstakingly been working on for the past 3 months had gone down the drain. Meanwhile, his mother had been bugging him to settle down because she wanted grandchildren. Mind you, she already had 8 grandkids! Not only that, one of Mew's fuck buddies visited him at the office and demanded that he gave more attention. Like fucking hell! Mew had too much on his plate.
He was sipping his coffee while staring down looking at the busy intersection from his office when he saw him. He was a tall kid in a school uniform. Mew wondered how old could he be. The young man was talking on his phone when he laughed in total abandonment. His handsome face simply lit up. That brought a smile to the brooding Mew that morning. The young man's smile was contagious!!
Since that day, Mew would leave his house early so that he could catch a glimpse of his muse. He would cross the intersection early in the morning and cross it again when it was time to head home Mew guessed. The young man unknowingly had made Mew's days better without even knowing of his existence nor significance. Then, one day Mew noticed bruises on his muse's face. He could not help but feel a surge of protectiveness. Who dared mar that beautiful face? Nobody could lay a finger on HIS muse.NOBODY!