#narushima melt x reader

[kaigarax]

Exactly As I Am

Narushima Melt x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone compassionate." & "Fall in love with someone you'll love forever."

Someone You Loved Featuring: The Pilot

Narushima Melt wasn’t quite sure why he was here.

He was a stranger to the bride and barely even knew the groom. They’d had… three (maybe four) conversations? Maybe the groom was actually a loner that didn’t know how to make friends and needed to fill the roster? Or perhaps they wanted famous people here and Melt happened to fall into that position after his latest role?

Probably not.

Most of the people here were probably either related to either bride and groom or a business partner of some sort. Perhaps even both. None of them were very recognizable to Melt - though he did get recognized by a few people. Even asked for his autograph at one point which was a total ego stroke.

The wedding venue was nice.

Very nice.

And very expensive.

His manager had asked him to dress in his nicest of suits. A dark blue top and black pants. You’d alway thought that he looked better in blue and white (something about it bringing out his eyes better) but white gets dirty so easily and Melt didn’t want to have to walk around checking every seat before sitting down. Besides, he looked good in black too.

Speaking of you, Melt was a little surprised to see that you’d been invited here as well. Well maybe not considering that you’d been asked to come here as a photographer. What’s more surprising is that they managed to get you to take photos of them at all. His own company had to book months in advance when they scheduled you to take photos of him and even then they hadn’t been sure if you’d make it or not.

You either must have been getting paid real well or someone important to you was chasing in a big favour. Melt wonders if you’d ever do a big favour like this for him.

He spots you from across the room despite your clothes seeming to blend into the environment as you walk around taking photos of all the different guests.

You’re dressed nicely. Well nicer than what you usually wear - and you actually look rather pretty today. Well, you always look pretty but today you stand out compared to most of the other girls here.

So, of course, Melt easily makes his way across the room to you, convincing you to let him sit beside you at your table sequestered in the back of the room. Makes sense. Out of the way and convenient access if someone wanted to talk to you about something.

There’s a tall dark haired man, The Hero Melt thinks, stands out against the light sheets of the table. He looks to be around Melt’s age if not a little older. Definitely older than when you must have taken his photos.

Sitting across from the dark haired man is the Chef. A short dirty blonde hair guy. Truthfully, Melt isn’t all too sure why he’s called the Chef - none of his photos have to do with cooking - but perhaps it’s just another one of your practical jokes.

His own title, The Pilot, is an inside joke taken a little too far. Not just were all the photos you took of him when he’d been posing in the cockpit of an airplane but because you liked to tease him about all his failed television shows. All of which failed after releasing the Pilot.

“Ah, unrequited love.” You say, as you take a seat at the table in the back of the room.

Melt takes a seat beside you, frowning slightly.

You always were such a weird one. Speaking out randomly about whatever happened to be on your mind. It was probably the most memorable thing about you though. It’s how his first conversation with you occurred back when you first started taking photos of him.

The Hero and the Chef both look to Melt as he takes a seat beside you. Both of their expressions are calm and neutral - the Hero’s slightly more playful than that of the Chef’s. Melt turns his own attention to you.

“Who?” Asks Melt.

You point to a boy with pink hair sitting on the other side of the room with his friends.

From Melt’s perspective there doesn’t seem to be anything all that special about the pink haired boy. He’s good looking but nothing jaw dropping. More cute than handsome. Young. Or at least younger than Melt.

Though, Melt would admit, he does recognize the look on the boy’s face. It reminds him of himself when he thinks about-

Okay maybe he’s not ready to admit something like that yet. But he will say that he knows for a fact that your assessment is right. It usually is when it comes to things like this.

“Who’s he in love with?” The Chef asks, leaning towards you.

You smile teasingly, “guess.”

The Hero leans towards you too which causes a frown to form on Melt's face, “the brown haired girl?”

“The blonde girl?” Suggest the Chef.

Amatures. Melt isn’t even all too sure what you saw in either of these two. They’re just like everyone else. Nothing that screams brilliant. Though Melt has never been the best at determining another person’s worth. It wasn’t something that should have been valued unless they planned on going into an occupation like his own anyways.

Melt’s eyes scan over the various people before a smile forms on his face, “the girl with the golden eyes.”

Your own eyes light up at that, “oh, and what makes you think that?”

“A gut feeling,” Melt shugs, “I guess.”

You shake your head as if soldering a young child, “I expected better of you, Mr. Airplane.”

Of course you’d use that nickname. Melt has to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“Mr. Airplane?” The Chef asks, saying the nickname tentatively.

He doesn’t fight it very hard, “just a silly nickname.”

Though admittedly, that might have to do with the annoyance already building up in his stomach as he watches the Hero and Chef cozy up to you. He understands that you’re close to them but do you really have to be that close to them?

Melt supposes he should have done more research into your relationship with the other Muses.

Well, too late to cry over spilled milk.

He’d get to the task at a later point in time.

The Hero laughs, “it suits you, being the Pilot and all.”

You laugh along with the Hero, “ah yes, the Pilot.”

Melt has trouble fighting the blush on his cheeks at the sound of your laughter, “you’re such a brat.” He’s always had trouble with keeping up his cool persona around you.

“At least I don’t rely on gut feelings to know when someone’s in love.” You say back.

As if that’s something to write home about.

“How do you know when someone’s in love, (Y/n)?” The Chef asks, saying your name so softly and sweetly that Melt almost needs to barf.

“Well,” you (in all your wisdom and glory) begin, “I would recommend years of observation - as experience is the most sure way of figuring this kind of thing out - but I’ll give you guys the sparknotes. To know if someone’s in love you just have to follow their gaze.”

“Why?” Asked the Hero.

And you smile sweetly in response, “because the gaze never lies.”

The gaze never lies? Melt supposes that might be true. You always were more insightful than everyone else so maybe he should give this some consideration.

People did have a tendency to look at things they liked. Melt was looking at you right now. But the statement is quite the ambitious one to make. One that seemingly seeks to encapsulate all of the human race into a single sentence about love. What about people that look away when they’re in love? Are you saying they don’t exist at all? Is it something that people just can’t help doing?

When the thought proves to be too annoying, Melt quickly disgards it.

No need to ponder about something as complicated as that if Melt won’t be able to come up with a proper answer.

“Do any of you ever plan on getting married?” You ask. Melt presumes the question comes because of their present location.

Melt shrugs, “eventually.”

“Eventually?” You ask, repeating Melt slowly and playfully.

“Well, obviously whoever I get married to is going to have to be okay with being in the public light. Constantly being harassed by the paparazzi whether they’re famous or not just because they’re associated with me. I don’t plan on getting married until I’m ready to settle down in my acting career.” Explained Melt.

“Very mature of you.” You tease.

Usually this is where Melt would stop, but your teasing seems to egg him on which causes him to say, “besides, actors and models are more popular when they’re single anyways.”

You sigh, “and he drops the ball.”

Melt pouts in response.

You can be so mean to him sometimes - but that’s why Melt likes you more than everyone else. You don’t do it with malice intent but because you want him to be better. And you don’t baby him like how others do either. You tell him when he’s in the wrong and what you think he could be doing better. You make him better.

“What about you, Viking boy?” You ask, turning to look at the Chef, “you are the oldest of us four. You plan on getting hitched anytime soon?”

Viking boy?

The Chef was proving to be weirder and weirder.

The Chef scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “I guess I never thought much about it.”

You get a thoughtful look in your eyes as you respond, “any girl would be lucky to have you. Or guy, if that’s what you’re into.”

“Well I-”

The blushing Chef is cut off with a playful pat on the back from the Hero, “come on, Sweets, don’t tease him.”

Sweets?

“And what about you, Cellophane?” You shoot back.

Cellophane?

Were you really close enough with The Chef and Hero that you had given them nicknames? So close that they were able to refer to you as something like ‘Sweets?’ Melt isn’t sure if he likes the way his stomach tosses and turns. If you were going to let a dude call you something like Sweets then who was Melt to judge?

The Hero clears his throat, attempting to be coy, “what about me?”

“Any special someone in your life?” You asked.

“Na,” the Hero shakes his head, “it’s a bachelor’s life for me.”

For someone smiling, Melt thinks that the Hero looks awfully sad. It’s an expression he had never been all too familiar with but wanted to master. He wonders if it would be weird for him to suddenly pull out a camera and capture the expression of the Hero. it would definitely be invasive but Melt imagines it’s something that you would do if it interested you enough.

Melt obviously doesn’t stop and pull out a camera (because he’s a normal person) but he does wonder.

“Well no shame,” you say, “not everyone in this world gets married.”

“And what about you, Sweets?” Asked the Hero.

“Marriage,” you say the word as if tentatively tasting it for the first time, “what do you think?”

Marriage.

Melt’s heart does a weird kind of thing when he thinks of you married. It’s not that fluttering feeling romantic writers always talk about. It’s kinda sad to drop off his chest as he imagines you as a bride. Perhaps he gets such a sad feeling because he knows you’d never marry someone like him - and he’d never get to marry someone like you. Imagines you’d end up with someone older. Someone nicer to you than he was.

Annoyed with his own thoughts, Melt attempts to distract himself with something else. His eyes wandering the room and landing back on the pink haired boy from before.

Ah, how much simpler life would be if he had been someone like the pink haired boy. How easy it would have been to look at the girl he likes and confess his feelings. How simple it would have been to have just taken the golden eyed girl’s hands and express his feelings in a dramatic fashion that would make even the most reserved of folks blush.

Eventually, Melt’s gaze lands on an orange haired boy that the golden eyed girl keeps looking at.

If the gaze never lies then it appears this girl too seems to hold an unrequited love. Ah what a funny situation the trio seem to have found themselves in. Though Melt isn’t really in a position to say something like that.

He looked back at the pink haired boy.

Then, Melt turns to look at you, “what makes you think he has an unrequited love, (Y/n)?”

“Don’t think, Mr. Airplane.” You say, your voice so certain and sure, “I know.”

“Oh do you now?’ The Hero adds, his own voice coated with a teasing lit.

“Of course,” you say with seemingly a boundless amount of wisdom and a smile that sends Melt’s heart into a pathetic flutter, “I know people’s hearts. Why else would my works be so popular?”

If Melt could smile like that he bet he’d be able to have any role he wanted.

Bets that you can get any heart you want.

“Because you’re good at taking photos?” The Chef suggests, his voice ever so polite and reserved.

The Hero laughs, once again, at the Chef’s words, patting him playfully on the back, “I like you. You’re so straightforward! Not like this little missy here.”

You pout, “hey!”

Melt feels a smile pull at his lips as he watches you, “people like your photos because you pick such good looking Muses.”

You smile in agreement, “very true! The muses I pick have excellent hearts.”

An excellent heart? Melt doubts that. Almost everything he’s done in his life has been for and because of himself. Everyone in the idol industry did things purely for their own gain - whether that be for financial or fame. He doubts that anyone, other than yourself, would refer to him as someone with an ‘excellent heart’. It’s almost enough to make him laugh.

“Hey,” the Hero points out, “you never answered the question, Sweets.”

Sweets.

“I haven’t,” you hum playfully, “have I?”

Melt’s full on grinning as he looks to the Hero, “this is what you mean, ain’t it? She hates answering questions directly.”

“Hey,” you frown, “you’re ganging up on me.”

“That’s because you make it too easy.” Replied the Hero.

The Chef, being the ever sweet man he is, smiles softly, “it’s okay, (Y/n). You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to.”

Melt thinks that the Chef is someone you’d end up marrying. Someone to indulge in your playful behaviour. Someone to treat you softly and gently like how you deserve. Someone that understands both their own emotions and yours. Not someone like Melt that jumps into situations without thinking. Someone so driven by their own emotions and unaware of the feelings of others.

As much as Melt hates to admit it (and be sure he absolutely loathes it) the Chef is someone much better suited for you than he is.

The Hero playfully scolds the Chef, “you’re too easy on her.”

Melt nods, “a total simp.”

“The two of you could learn a thing or two from him,” you say, rolling your eyes but smiling warmly.

“Doubt it, Sweets.” Replies the Hero, rubbing your head softly.

Perhaps you’d do better with someone like the Hero. Someone that plays off your attitude well. Someone to keep you on your toes and push you back a little. Someone that clearly shows his affection for you.

You grab the Hero’s hand, “love is such a mysterious thing.”

Melt raises a brow but follows your gaze.

The bride and groom seem to have taken to the dance floor, spinning around and laughing beautifully. Melt doesn’t think he’s seen the groom that happy before. Sure, he may have only seen him… three times before but he knows for a fact that he didn’t think he was able to make such a warm and loving sick expression.

It’s almost as annoying as it is cute.

Melt hopes that one day he might be able to find someone that he can dance on a floor like that with. With reckless abandon of the tune and melody simply because you can.

The Chef clears his throat, “I thought you said that love was a well understood thing?”

“I did?” You asked.

Melt nods, “yes.”

“You sure?”

The Hero nods, “very~”

“When?”

Melt rolls his eyes, “during my exhibit.”

“Oh,” you laugh softly, “I guess I have.”

Melt leans over towards you, gently flicking your forehead much like how you used to do when the two of you would film and Melt would say something snippy. The gesture seems to hold just as much warmth to you as it does to him as you smile brightly in response. Melt hates that you’re able to smile so warmly when you look at him because his heart has begun to thump erratically in his chest once again.

“Perhaps I should say fate is such a mysterious thing.” You suggested.

Fate.

Melt has always been a big believer of Fate - almost to the point of being called hopeless. Maybe it was because he didn’t like the idea of everything being in his own hands. Made the world seem much… bigger. Pinning everything on this idea of a greater force no one can control just made the world seem so much more manageable.

“Do you think they’re each other’s first love?” The Hero asks as his gaze is once again captured by the married couple.

“No.” Melt mumbles.

At the same time he hears the Chef proclaim a bright, “yes.”

The bride, while clearly in love, doesn’t look the same way that most people do when they’re in love for the first time. There seems to be history in her eyes. Something similar to what’s in your eyes. The eyes of someone that has seen something. What exactly, Melt isn’t too sure but he does know that it has to be something.

“She’s his first love.” You said.

The Hero leans towards you, “hm?”

“It’s the way he looks at her. You always look at your first love differently from everyone else. There’s a certain kind of softness in his eyes.” You explained.

“It’s too bad his best man doesn’t seem to like her very much.” Says the Chef, his voice thoughtful and considerate.

You tilt your head to the side, curiously, “what makes you say that?”

“Because he’s sitting so stiffly.” Explained the Chef, pointing out the best man.

The Hero shrugs thoughtfully, “he does seem rather annoyed.”

Melt look over to the best man. There’s a certain look in his eyes that reminds Melt of himself as he watches the dancing newly weds. Melt isn’t sure if feels sympathy or annoyance towards the best man for allowing himself to get into such a situation, “I get that impression too.”

Your eyes land on Melt, a bright look, “Elaborate.”

“I guess it has something to do with the way he acts around her. It’s like he’s stepping on eggshells.” Says Melt despite not seeing the best man interact with the bride at all. It feels more like an assessment of his own reaction than the best man’s. But he’d never admit that - especially to you.

“He could just be shy,” suggested the Chef.

The Hero takes the opposite approach, “or maybe he doesn’t like her and is upset the groom is marrying someone he doesn’t like?”

You say exactly what Melt hadn’t wanted to hear most, “he’s in love with her.”

“And what makes you say that?” Asks Melt, hoping you don’t hear the shakiness in his voice.

“Follow his gaze.”

Fall in love with someone compassionate.

---

Exactly As I Am

My Dearest,

I used to think that I would want the person I loved to love me in return. That I would want them to remember my name. I’ve found that simply getting to know you is enough for me.

Yours Truly

---

“Don’t you think purple hair is kinda tacky?” You ask, tilting your head to the side playfully, a teasing look in your eyes. Your taunt is childish at best and downright cruel at worst but Narushima Melt does his best to try and take it in stride. He knows you’re doing it on purpose because you want to see if he’ll lose his cool.

That you’ll push and prod him because you can.

Anyone else would have either been ignored or promptly escorted away from Melt’s sight. Why should he have to sit there and listen to someone make fun of him, much less a photographer meant to be taking photos of him.

Melt frowns ever so slightly, “it’s not the hair colour I picked.”

You’re lucky you’re not just anyone.

A renowned photographer known for shooting her Muses up into fame faster than a rocket gets shot up into space. If Melt plays his cards correctly he might even manage to score a role in the upcoming movie with that Director you took photos of a few years ago. All he has to do is make it through a few more of the excruciatingly long photo sessions with you (they’re not actually that long) and he’ll be set. Or at least that’s what his manager tells him.

“True.”

Melt raises an eyebrow.

“Purple doesn’t suit you very well.”

Ugh.

Why do you have to always know exactly what to say to push his buttons all the time?

You’re the most annoying photographer ever! How anyone ever managed to put up with you in the first place, Melt isn’t sure. Honestly it’s a miracle you even managed to convince someone to be your muse in the first place, much less 12 (or was it 13) other people.

“Melt,” you hum his name teasingly as you reposition him into a different stance, “aren’t you going to answer me?”

Fine.

If you’re going to insist on being like that then so is he.

“And where’d you get an opinion like that?” Taunted Melt.

You smile easily, seemingly amused, “a magazine,” your hands gently gliding over his own as you position them in where you deem is the perfect place.

“It seems you’re just another bee.”

You laugh softly, “I am quite fond of honey.”

Melt has to do a double take.

You seem to have taken it in stride though Melt isn’t sure if you’ve actually misunderstood the insult or not. Sometimes you do like to play dumb but he can’t figure out if you’ve actually misunderstood what he was saying or not.

Truthfully, Melt isn’t actually mad at you for calling his hair tacky but the topic a sensitive one for him. One of the other models he’d been modeling with had made fun of his hair the other day and ever since then Melt’s been debating on changing it. He obviously won’t because then the others would know that they got to him and he definitely won’t give them that satisfaction but it did put him in a bad mood.

None of the other models or staff on set had stepped up to defend Melt forcing him to take all the criticism.

To hear that you were simply just following their lead now did nothing to help his already crumbling self-esteem.

Seeming to understand the turmoil going on in Melt’s head you break out into laughter, “you’ll find the life of a worker bee to be quite a fulfilling one.”

Melt’s heart does a weird fluttering thing at your laugh which only makes his scowl deepen, “fulfilling is a nice way of saying boring.”

“And what’s wrong with being boring?”

“Everyone wants to be special.”

“Special people,” you smile teasingly, “don’t get insulted when they’re called boring.”

        I used to wanna be         Living like there’s only me         But now I spend my time         Thinking ‘bout a way to get you off my mind         I used to be so rough         Never really gave enough         And then you caught my eye         Giving me the feeling of a lighting strike

“Would you consider doing shots underwater?”

“What?”

You poke your head out from behind the camera, “underwater shots! I’ve been wanting to try underwater photos. I got a waterproof camera recently and wanted to try it out. So I was wondering if you wanted to take some underwater shots.”

“No.” Melt shakes his head, “I don’t want to do it.”

“Aw, come on! I promise I’ll be quick!”

“You’re never quick when it comes to taking photos.”

“That’s because you only see me when I take photos in a professional setting! I’ll have you know that I can take photos in a timely manner when I try to.”

Melt chuckles, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

You snap a shot, “so you’ll do it?”

“No.”

“Lame~”

Melt scowls, “don’t you have any other people you can ask?”

“I do,” you snap another shot of Melt, “but I don’t want to ask them.”

Melt turns his head away from the camera lens.

You snap another shot.

“Did you spend a lot of time with your other Muses?” Melt asks, attempting to redirect your attention.

“Well, I did have to spend time with them so that I could take photos of them.”

“But did you spend a lot of time with them, outside of the studio?”

“I didn’t take all of my photos in a studio. Actually, I took at least half of them at the moment sporadically. Always searching for the perfect angles you know? Always in the pursuit of something greater than what we already have.”

Melt nods but he doesn’t actually get what you’re saying.

“But yeah,” you hum softly as you move from one camera to the next, “I did spend a lot of time with each of the muses. Some more than others, of course.”

“Do you still talk to them?”

“Some of them.”

Melt wonders what the expression on your face was when you answered him. If you got a sad misty eyed look or if you smiled ever so gently in a way that people do when they’re happy about what happened rather than being sad that it ended. Or maybe your face didn’t change at all, staying neutral and stoic.

You seem more like the kind of person to not linger very long in the past which is actually kind of ironic because you’re a photographer. And what are photos if not moments of the past frozen in time?

“Am I a Muse?” Melt asks suddenly.

“Do you want to be?”

Melt shrugs, “I mean, I know you take photos of people all the time and do a bunch of photoshoots like this with people that don’t end up being Muses but… I guess I was just curious. It doesn't matter much anyways.”

“It matters to me.”

Melt swears that if his heart keeps fluttering like that he’s going to end up ruined.

        Look at me now, I’m falling         I can’t even talk, still stuttering         This found I’m on, it keeps shaking         Oh, oh, oh, now!

You step out for a moment when your manager comes running into the room speaking to you about something important. Melt hopes it’s nothing too serious and watches anxiously as you head out. It’s rare that something pulls you away while you’re in the middle of a shoot and even rarer for you to leave without mentioning something to Melt. It’s so rare that this is the first time it’s ever happened.

Melt left speechless as your manager follows you out of the room.

Well, hopefully it won’t be anything too bad. Maybe there was an important call you were expecting? But then wouldn’t you have said something to him earlier? And it wasn’t like you to be forgetful about things like that.

If Melt really needs to know then your manager will probably tell him.

Right?

On another note, Melt was pretty surprised when he saw how small your management staff was. Consisting of only two people. Your co-managers as you called them. One to help you manage your schedule and the other to help you manage your work life balance. Melt bets that you would probably spend your entire day just taking photos of things if you could.

Most people don’t actually know that you have two managers. Your second one prefers to keep more in the background of things. But that makes sense. Most photographers don’t even have managers in the first place. Only the really famous ones, which you happen to be.

Melt was very surprised when he heard that you weren’t with a publishing company or distributing company of some sort. That you preferred to keep things small and freelance if you could. Melt knows that he certainly would have signed with the best group he could have if he were in a position like yours.

He supposes the fame just never mattered as much to you.

“Is everything okay?” Melt asks as you come back into the room.

“Hm?” You’re out of breath slightly as you turn to Melt, “did you say something?” Wow. Melt’s always known you were pretty, thought you were pretty when he first met you, but right now he suddenly finds himself wanting to press his lips to your own. He isn’t really all too sure why either. He just knows that his heart is racing and his head is pounding. It feels like he was the one running around rather than you.

“No,” Melt turns away from you, “nothing. Let’s just get on with the next set of photos. Where do you want me to stand?”

        All I wanna be, yeah, all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah         Is Somebody to you         All I wanna be, yeah, all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah         Is somebody to you         Everybody's tryna be a billionaire         But every time I look at you, I just don’t care         ‘Cause all I wanna be, yeah, all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah         Is somebody to you

“Tilt your head up a little higher.” You request.

Melt tilts his head back while you alter the lens of the camera. He watches curiously as you scramble around with the lighting, running from light to light and changing the settings. Most photographers have teams of people to do it for them but you always seem to prefer to do everything yourself.

Melt can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

On one hand it shows that you like to get your hands dirty. Do all the heavy lifting yourself. But, on the other hand, it displays that you’re kind of a control freak; thinking that you can do everything better than the people around you.

Caught up in his own thoughts Melt doesn’t realise that you’re standing behind him until your hands are readjusting his shoulders.

“Lean a little more to the left and direct your gaze this way.” You direct, placing your hands gently on his face as you position in the right spot exactly.

You’re definitely a control freak.

And a little needy.

Melt’s surprised at how your hands feel. Usually your touches are fleeting and over top of his clothing. You’re always making sure to maintain a professional distance between yourself and the people around you. It makes sense. Wouldn’t want to get into a scandal or anything through miscommunicating or a touch that lingers a little too long.

But sometimes, just sometimes, Melt wants your touch to linger just a little longer.

Especially right now as your hands reposition his face.

They’re not exactly soft but they're not rought either. A nice inbetween. Just enough texture to have him curious about what kinds of things you do for fun. Obviously you’re holding cameras all the time but there must be other things that you do. Maybe you just don’t like to lotion your hands? Or you’re an avid swimmer?

“Don’t lean forward so much, Melt.”

Oh shoot.

He does his best to bite back a blush.

He doesn’t do a very good job though as you quickly catch onto his change in demeanour.

“Oh, that’s a nice expression.”

“(Y/n),” Melt frowns.

“Hm?”

He doesn’t say anything in response, the words once again alluding him. Melt doesn’t get tongue tied often… well maybe he does. He’s not much of a speaker in the first place but it gets a little annoying when he wants to talk to you. When there’s things that he wants to say to pretty girls like you.

“Have you ever been in love before?” You ask, whispering softly as you lean in towards Melt.

Melt rolls his eyes, “you’re annoying.”

“What?” You pout playfully, “I was just curious.”

“Yes,” Melt huffs, “if you must know. Yes, I’ve been in love before.”

‘SNAP!’

“Hey!” Melt exclaims, “you said you would tell me before you take photos.”

“Sorry,” you say though it’s obvious you aren’t actually sorry, “I liked that expression you made. You don’t make it very often.”

“You’re lucky I’m nice.”

“The luckiest~”

        I used to run around         I didn’t want to settle down         But now, I wake each day         Looking for a way that I can see your face         I’ve got your photograph         But baby, I need more than that         I need to know your lips         Nothing ever mattered to me more than this

“I think that’s enough photos for the day,” you said, turning off the bright spot lights. Melt nods, getting down from the chair you had seated him in and starting to take off the clothes he’d been dressed in, leaving him in a simple shirt and pants.

You fiddle around with the equipment. Twisting chords together and placing cameras into their proper cases.

Usually Melt would immediately make his way off set. He never was one to linger. But today he finds his feet planted to the ground as he watches you move around. When he first met you he had assumed you weren’t all that familiar with this industry world. You were so standoffish and aloof when speaking to the other people on set and even more so when speaking to him. In retrospect, Melt suppose that might’ve been because you wanted to see his character.

Watching you now though Melt can see just exactly how wrong he was. You move so smoothly and efficiently as if you’ve been doing this for a long time. You have a good understanding where everything is and you’re calm.

“What’re you doing after this?” Melt asks, moving to stand beside you.

“Curious about something other than yourself?” You teased.

Melt frowns, “I don’t only think about myself! I also consider the feelings of the cast and crew! Well,” Melt looks down to the ground, “at least I do now.” Despite knowing you’re only teasing you seem to always somehow hit the hard hitting topics. He supposes that he should be used to that though.

“Only teasing, Mr. Airplane.”

“Hey!”

“Hm?”

“You said you wouldn’t call me that anymore!”

“I lied~”

Melt snorts, “you’re such a brat.”

“Guilty as charged~” You seem to have finished packing everything up as you throw a jacket over your shoulders and sling a polaroid camera around your neck. The polaroid camera is the first thing that catches Melt’s attention. It reminds him of those brightly coloured ones that he used to see in commercials when he was young. Instafilms or something like that. One of his younger cousins had had one of them always taking pictures at the worst of times.

Your own camera looks a little on the older side. Looks a little beaten up but well loved and taken care of.

From all the photographers that Melt’s met he can definitely say that you’re the most in love with your work. The only one that seems to always have a camera within arm’s reach. Always searching for the perfect moment to capture and share with the rest of the world. He might even go as far as saying you’re not like any other photographer he’s ever met if that didn’t sound so cliche.

“Hey,” Melt leans against the door as you go to open it, “you never answered my question.”

You give him a raised eyebrow but your eyes sparkle in amusement, “didn’t think you cared.”

“Why would I ask if I didn’t care?”

“Touche.” You move to open the door.

Melt doesn't move, he’s not going to let you get away this easily, “well?”

        Look at me now, I’m falling         I can’t even talk, still stuttering         This ground I’m on, it keeps shaking         Oh, oh, oh, now!

“Not used to not getting what you want, huh?” You tease.

“Haha,” Melt rolls his eyes, “very funny.”

“Well I certainly think so~”

You always did like making things more difficult than they needed to be. Why else would you insist on doing all the crew work yourself? You, if anyone, could have very easily assembled a crew attuned to your every need and want with your fame alone. Heck, you probably had people lining up to work for you if you really wanted.

Melt thinks that that’s likely the most interesting thing about you though. The fact that you do all these seemingly crazy (and oftentimes stupid) things without explaining yourself. He remembers reading an interview from you. You answered every question in an open ended way. Leaving lots of room for interpretation. Never directly or outright saying things. You definitely got off on leaving people confused, that's for sure.

Melt, believe it or not, had actually done a little bit of research on you the other day.

He didn’t like how you never answer many of his questions so he had gone off and looked for information himself. You were from a suburban town near one of the larger cities. Grew up with your first Muse, the Soldier. Attended university with the Storyteller and Auteur. Traveled around the world.

Overall, there wasn’t much information on you but that’s what Melt had been expecting. The most he found about you came from the quotes of your muses, specifically the Mentalist. Back when your fame was first rising it was the Mentalist that did most of the promoting of your skills and talents. So much so that your names are practically synonymous with one another’s.

“So, are we just going to stay here all night?” You ask.

“Fine,” Melt opens the door, “but you’re coming with me to my next set.”

“What? Why?”

“Just,” Melt blushes, “just because.”

He thanks his lucky stars that all you do is smile and nod, deciding not to push the topic any further, “sure. Whatever you say, Mr. Airplane.”

Melt walks ahead of you, not wanting you to see his flushed face, “so who’s been your favourite Muse?”

“My favourite Muse?”

“Yeah, you know. Which one of your Muses did you like the most?”

“I don’t have a favourite. I like each of my muses differently. It’s unfair to compare them like that.”

“Come on,” Melt gives you a playful nudge, “everyone has a favourite. Don’t give a cliche answer like parents do whenever they get asked which child is their favourite. I’m sure there was one that you liked working with more than the others.”

“Well if we’re going to specially say which one I liked working with the most then it would have been The Mentalist.”

“Why?”

“He was easy to work with. Understood the industry and was there to help me feel better about all the mistakes I made.” You get a fond smile on your face that Melt hasn’t seen before. It makes his heart skip a beat.

“And,” Melt swallows, “which one of your Muses was the… funnest to work with?”

“The Storyteller.”

“And the best looking?”

“Objectively? Or based on my own preferences?”

“Your own preferences.”

“The Dancer.”

“Then what about objectively?”

You smile teasingly, “the Dancer, still.”

Melt’s mood begins to sour but he can’t exactly understand why.

“You know,” you hum, “these are never heard before answers.”

“Oh?”

“Definitely,” you explain, “I don’t just go around and answer questions directly~ I prefer to leave things up to speculation. So don’t go around and tell everyone or else I might get some angry calls from my Muses.”

Melt laughs at that.

        All I wanna be, yeah all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah         Is somebody to you         All I wanna be, yeah, all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah         Is somebody to you         Everybody’s tryna be a billionaire         But every time I look at you, I just don’t care         ‘Cause all I wanna be, yeah, all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah         Is somebody to you

“So, what’re you going to call my series of photos?” Melt asks, leaning against the wall.

“Hm,” you lean on the wall beside him, “what do you think I should call it?”

“The Model?”

“What? I was teasing earlier about your hair being tacky but that title is definitely too tacky!” You sigh dramatically, “I’d never recover from the humiliation of using a title as rudimentary as ‘The Model.’ I can already hear the criticism of the press.”

Melt snorts, “as if some of your titles aren’t already tacky. The Detective and The Violinist, just to name a few.”

“Those titles are who they are.”

“And I’m not a model?”

“You’re so much more.”

Melt feels his cheeks flush. He wonders if you can see how red his cheeks are between the dim lighting and makeup that had been applied to his face earlier on. You probably don’t because you likely would have taken the chance to tease him as you usually do. He’s thankful that you don’t. He’s not sure he’ll be able to live down this level of embarrassment… ever. To think that someone like you would be able to make him blush like a middle school boy with his first crush.

His heart’s fluttering dramatically.

Is this a normal feeling?

Melt isn’t all too sure anymore.

“I’m thinking, The Pilot.” You say suddenly.

Melt turns to look at you standing beside him. You’re closer than he thought you were - just barely a breadths width away from his arm touching your own. He’s obviously used to you touching him (always politely and properly) from the photoshoots but this feels different. Doesn't have that same professional distance. Doesn’t have that same context.

“The Pilot?” Melt asks, “like an airplane Pilot? Wait, is this because you always call me Mr. Airplane?”

“No,” you laugh, “like the first episode of the show.”

“Tacky.” Melt teases.

You give him a playful shove, “the Pilot because all the shows you star in fail after airing the first episode.”

Melt pouts, “low blow.”

“Obviously I’m only teasing,” you smile fondly, “the Pilot because I want this to be the first episode in a long career for you.”

Wow.

He kind of hates how you’re able to switch so easily between a stoic and serious personality and a calm and collected one. How you’re able to go from pouting to romantic in seemingly a matter of seconds. He definitely hates how he’s probably not the first.

Obviously, not being one to be outdone, Melt leans down and whispers into your ear, the same way you’d done earlier before, “have you ever been in love before?”

You smile, “of course.”

“Yeah,” Melt says, “that’s what I expected.”

“You know,” you hum thoughtfully, “you aren’t the first one to ask me a question like that. I always thought I looked like someone that falls in love easily so it always surprises me when someone asks me a question like that.”

Melt frowns, “you aren’t.”

“I don’t look like someone that falls in love easily?”

“You aren’t surprised.”

“Oh? And how do you know that?”

He pulls away in a huff, not really quite sure how to articulate his words. Melt’s never been all that good at saying what’s on his mind and he’s even worse when it comes to girls like you. People like you. That poke and prod in an attempt to see the inner workings of his brain. How can someone else understand what he’s thinking when he barely does himself?

“Smile for me.” You say, holding up your polaroid camera.

Annoyed, Melt gives you a practiced smile.

‘SNAP.’

        Look at me now, I’m fallin’         Can’t even talk still stutterin’         All I wanna be, yeah, all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

“Throw it out.” Demanded Melt.

“What?” You hold the photo just out of Melt’s reach, “but you look so cute!”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“No.”

“Hm,” you pull a silver compact from your pocket, “can I keep it if I promise that I won’t publish this with the other photos?”

Melt raises an eyebrow, “you want to keep a photo of me?”

“Course~” You say it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “who doesn't keep photos of people that are important to them?”

He’s important to you?

His heart skips a beat.

He’s important to you.

And then another.

He’s important to you!

“Want to see them?” You ask, opening up your silver compact.

“See what?”

“My secret collection of photos.”

Melt shrugs, trying his best to seem nonchalant, “why not? You’re going to show me either way.”

There looks to be about a dozen or so photos in the compact that come pouring out when you take them out. Melt is surprised to see that he actually recognizes most of the people in these photos. He’s never seen any of these specific photos before but he knows for a fact that these people are your other Muses.

Some of them are faded.

Others are a little blurry.

But overall they’re all in good condition.

“They’re never before seen by the public,” you explain, “kind of like those photos people keep in their wallets of their loved ones, you know. I did consider keeping them in my wallet but then I thought about how easy it would be to lose (and wallets get stolen all the time) and then they can get damaged much easier. That’s why some of them have yellow stains.”

“Have you shown this to anyone else before?” Asks Melt, slowly flipping through the various polarized photos.

“You’re the first one to see it in a while.”

“Oh,” Melt gives the photos a little shake as if they’ll whisper secrets to him, “who was the last person to see it?”

“The Bookkeeper.”

Oh.

Melt figures it would have been another one of your Muses that would have had the privilege of seeing something so special to you. It’s always the people who matter the most to you that get to see things like this. And a part of Melt has always known that you must have loved the other Muses but it feels a little different to see it with his own eyes. Makes him feel a little less special.

“Anyone else?” Melt asked.

“Just you and the Bookkeeper.”

That makes him feel a little better.

But only ever so slightly.

Fall in love with someone you’ll love forever.

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Song: Somebody to You Artist: The Vamps, Featuring: Demi Lovato

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Her: How much?