His Muse

I swear he's real & his name isn't Ken

"Nicolas—you can call me Nic though," he replied, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and accepting the hand Milo reached out. They wound up walking out together by happenstance, and so he decided to pull the conversation a bit longer. "So... not gonna lie—I might have seen the guy you're talking about out in the Quad. We just crossed paths and I felt the need to draw him. You know his name?"

"Nah. I'm terrible with names—usually takes a few times to memorize 'em," Milo confessed, squinting up at the sky before looking at Nic again. "So I hope you won't be offended when I ask for your name again next class."

"No offense taken, my dude. Where you headin' next?" he asked. They were approaching an intersection of walkers and bikers, and they paused to avoid being flattened by one of those horribly dangerous death-machines. God, did Nic hate the bikers around campus.

"I have a class on the other side of campus, so I gotta go to the bus station. You?" he asked.

"Dorm. I live in Kingsley."

"Ah, Mayhew. Good Ol' Mayhem, as I like to call it," Milo laughed, and nudged Nic in the shoulder. "See you around."

"Yeah, see you."

Next week. Next week I'll get a name, Nic promised himself, but moaned aloud as he turned to head towards Kingsley—only to be floored by a bike coming out of nowhere to trample him. "Fuck!" both him and the rider screamed, and he flipped off the rider without much thought. He realized that would definitely become a habit he'd have to stamp out before Mama came to visit in two weeks. She'd whack him with a rolling pin if she heard how much he started swearing just within the first two weeks of getting to Arnette University.

Nic ran his hands down the sides of his face as he meandered down the street to Kingsley. It was one of the farther dorms—not exactly close to the center of the weekend mayhem otherwise known as where Mayhew was. Initially he wanted to live there, for obvious social reasons, but it just didn't work out that way. Besides, Mayhew was an older building—at Kingsley they had all the newest renovations AKA awesome showers. He didn't mind that one fucking bit.

The second he lumbered into his room, he threw his backpack onto the futon and soon followed with it. He struggled to nudge his shoes off, but eventually they fell to the ground, and he groaned into the cushions. Where had all of his motivation gone?

The writing glared on his hand, and he frowned at it before sitting up and trying to remember what the girl looked like. Grey hair, right? It was definitely dyed, and kind of edgy. Maybe he had a thing for edgy people...

The Guy.

Nic pulled out his notebook and tore out the page with The Guy's face on it. It was still fresh in his memory. His motivation returned again, and he ran to his desk where he stuffed all of his art supplies. He pulled out his pencil set and an actual sketchbook, and began the process of rendering the image he had in his head, and translating it onto paper all over again. He kept his original sketch taped over his desk for a reference, and an hour later, when Sav got out of class, he had a few song suggestions to apply to The Guy.

He was so enveloped in coloring it in that he hadn't even heard his roommate come in until the volume on the speakers was turned down. Nic paused for a minute and looked over his shoulder. "What, Leo?" he asked.

"Bit loud, huh? The neighbors'll hate us," his roommate said. Nic scoffed and leaned back on his chair, hooking his arm over the back. Leo always tended to notice whatever Nic was doing, and came over to investigate further. "Drawing again, huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that. A synonym would be 'dying,' but I go for either." Leo scoffed at that, and gently tapped his finger on the pad of paper, leaning against the wooden post of the loft. "What?"