Something happened and now he was stuck. His drawings were horrendous, and his paintings were like that of a kindergartener. He was searching, looking.
For his muse.
{A Cole Sprouse Fanfic}
"the way he walked... the way he talked... the cold look in his eyes... the cracking of his knuckles read trouble, yet all I could see is a small misunderstood boy just wanting someone to let in"