Milo

Milo is 99.99% sure you can feel every single drop of his sweaty palm and his trembling fingers when you shook hands with him.

Surely you did, right? Every other person would probably feel it — how his palms fumbled around as you held your hand out for him, how his fingers awkwardly wrapped around yours, making him mentally berate himself for not lotioning his hands before touching your pristine ones. Arlo is the embodiment of nervousness right now.

He isn’t ready for this. He isn’t mentally prepared to meet his favorite artist in the middle of a random art supply shop he felt compelled to go into, even though his studio is already stocked to the brim with paint and canvases. He hasn’t even prepared his speech of admiration in front of his bathroom mirror yet. How do you expect him to react when you smiled so sweetly at him?

How do you expect him to react when you tell him you’re a fan of his work — that you want to do an art collab with him?

With him??

Him? As in the nervous wreck?? As in the artist who doesn’t even know what he’s doing half the time??? As in the person who started painting because of you????

He’s not even on your level — let alone have enough confidence to collaborate with you. His mind is running on nothing but caffeine and half a croissant he ate this morning — and he’s already spiraling about the fact he’s in the presence of his idol. Arlo feels dizzy. He can’t get dizzy now. He’s already feeling pathetic as you keep going on and on about his art. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around?

“Well I—” Arlo stumbles with his words, his stuttering coming at the worst timing as he stares into your eyes. Your very pretty eyes.

“A collab..? With me? I mean— surely you have better things to do, right?”

...right? Right??????