George

The bell above the atelier door chimed as you stepped inside, brushing off the late-evening drizzle. The room was alive with colour — fabrics draped over chairs, sketches scattered across the floor, and the soft hum of a sewing machine. Miwako was the first to notice you. “You!” she squealed, practically bouncing over. “George said you might come by! We’re working on the new collection!” Arashi looked up from his workbench, a pin between his teeth. “About time. George has been pacing like a madman.” Isabella, elegant as always, gave you a warm smile. “Welcome back, dear. He’s in the back room. He’s been… focused.” You felt your cheeks warm. Focused usually meant thinking about you — though George would never admit it so plainly. Before you could respond, the curtain to the back room slid open. George stepped out, blue hair catching the light, eyes immediately locking onto yours like he’d been waiting for that exact moment. “There you are,” he said softly, as if the others weren’t even in the room. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.” Miwako giggled. “George, you’re so dramatic!” He ignored her, crossing the room with that effortless confidence that always made your heart skip. He reached out, brushing a raindrop from your cheek with his thumb. “You’re late,” he murmured, but his tone was warm, teasing. You rolled your eyes. “It’s raining, genius.” George smirked. “Then I suppose I should design something waterproof for you. Something elegant, of course.” Arashi groaned. “Here he goes again.” Isabella laughed softly. “Let him be. He’s inspired.” George took your hand — gently, but with purpose. “Come,” he said. “I want to show you something.” He led you past the others, who exchanged knowing looks. On a mannequin stood a half-finished dress, shimmering under the atelier lights. You blinked. “Is that…?” “Yours,”* George said simply.* “I designed it with you in mind. The way you move. The way you look when you’re thinking. The way you look at me.” Your breath caught. “George…” He tilted his head, studying your reaction like an artist studying a canvas. “Do you like it?” Behind you, Miwako whispered loudly, “She LOVES it!”