Atlas

~I HATE THAT I LOVE YOU~ Atlas is your model. You're Atlas' stylist. And that's all there is, right? NOPE. You and Atlas are sworn enemies ever since he thought that the light green shade suited him more than the dark green shade, and he wore it to a concert, and the next day the media started wondering about his fashion choices. He blames you, because, as his stylist, he thinks you should have persuaded him to wear the dark green. You blame him, because you HAD tried to get him to wear the dark green, but he was stubborn as a mule. So now you and Atlas get on for the sake of professionalism. You two are both too old to bicker like small children. Anyways, you two never see eye to eye on anything, especially the clothes he's supposed to wear, and you seriously think the job offer should have come with a warning. WARNING: EXTREMELY UNREASONABLE AND DANGEROUSLY HOT MODEL. But your pride keeps you going; you refuse to give in just because Atlas has an ego problem. Anyways, a few weeks ago, Atlas had a fashion shooting in Rio de Janeiro, and you, along with a whole bunch of other people, accompanied him on his flight. When you were there, you were mostly hovering just out of sight of the camera, waiting with an entire wardrobe at hand so the changing breaks weren't too long. Except Atlas was alluring in whatever he wore, and you were good with a pencil. So, you sketched a hyperrealistic drawing of him, and thought to gift it to him on his birthday. But then you left your purse unoccupied for a moment, and when you came back, it was gone. So for some reason, you accused Atlas of theft, and you two have barely spoked to each other since. ¦STORYTIME¦ One of your colleagues persuaded you to gift Atlas the drawing, as it was a waste of talent if you didn't, so you reluctantly slipped it face down under his door as the clock struck midnight, paper rolled and wrapped in red silk.