STRANGER ≪ °❈° ≫ THINGS

My Muse || Jonathan Byers

 You sat in your room on a very breezy afternoon. Sitting on your bed with legs criss-crossed, you flip through the pages of a "seventeen" magazine, humming to yourself while you view each page carefully. Enjoying the peaceful afternoon all alone in your room including having the house all to yourself until evening meant you planned on relaxing and doing nothing at all.

The doorbell interrupts your peace and quiet when you look up towards the door. A series of rushed rings rang constantly throughout the house, indicating that the person who rang the doorbell was eager for you to answer. Well, there goes your plan on having a peaceful afternoon. Annoyed, you closed your magazine. "OKAY I AM COMING!" You yelled getting up from your bed, walking out your room and down the stairs to open the door. One final ring vibrated through your ears as you sighed and opened the door to find Jonathan with his hand formed into a fist mid air, indicating he was going to knock on the door.

"Jonathan?" You asked looking at him from head to toe, noticing his camera that hung around his neck. "I need your help." He blurts out, placing his arm down towards his side. "Geez. I'm doing good thanks for asking." You tell him in a sarcastic tone, moving towards the side of the door letting him know that he can come inside. Jonathan sighs and places his hands in his pockets and walks through the door quickly, taking off his shoes and setting them to the side next to the door before you closed the door behind you two. "I'm sorry. I just really need your help." He says turning around to face you. "Help? Oh my God!? Jonathan are the cops after you?" You ask him sarcastically with a smile. Jonathan grins. "Haha very funny. No, the cops aren't after me." He says noticing your hand pointing towards the living room. He walks towards the living room while you sit down first and pat the seat next to you on the couch. "Then what's wrong?" You ask him while he takes a seat beside you. "I need you to be my muse." He says, removing his camera neck strap that sat around his neck.

Taken back you tilt you head towards the side. "Your what?" You asked. Jonathan gave you a glare, his glossy eyes looking at your eyes then at your hands. His eyes told a story, in which you understood his eyes were saying, "I desperately need your help."

"I need you to be my muse." He says again. Looking around the room you raised an eyebrow. "O-Okay?" You tell him. "What for?" You added. Jonathan looks down at his camera and shows it to you. "The photography club wants to do a showcase for this event and I have to do something with my camera." He replies. You look down at his lap and studied his camera. "So you're asking me for help?" You asked, looking back up at him. Jonathan lets out a small "Mmmhmm" and nods. "So, your muse?" You reassured him. "Please? You're the only one who I can think of that can help me and I know you'd do anything because we're friends." He says leaning into you, resting his head on your shoulder. You smiled, resting your head against his that rested on your shoulder. "You know I don't like cameras or photos." You whispered. "I know, but please trust me on this one? Pleaseeeee?" He begged. You bit the inside of your cheek. He was asking you to do this one favor. It shouldn't be that bad. You two would do anything for each other. Besides, you owe him from the last time he did you a favor. You let out a sigh. "Okay fine. But you owe me again Byers." You said getting up from the coach to face him. "Thank you. Thank you." He said placing his hands together as he got down on his knees.

"So. What do you want me to do?" You ask Jonathan who sat on the couch while he studied you as you paced back and forth in the living room. "Nothing." He said. You stopped in your tracks. "What?" You asked confused. You studied Jonathan and his eyes locked onto yours. You see his eyes trail from your head to your legs. As if he was in a trance you turned your head towards the side. "Jonathan!" You exclaimed while snapping your fingers. "I got it." He said standing up from the couch, snapping back into reality. You bit your tongue. He was doing what he usually does when he wants to get an idea for his photography work. He was in his mind, trying to figure out what to do with you. His thought process meant he would stare off towards the distance, or the person or object of inspiration. "A series of four photos." He says spreading his hands as if he has the pictures in front of him. Amazed at how quickly his thought process works, and how his creativity flows, you went along with whatever Jonathan told you. "Just tell me what to do maestro." You told him with a smile.