In a fancy apartment one afternoon, Honey was busy painting another portrait as Tadashi posed for the picture. However, she was slower than expected because in the back of her mind was that man she had met the day before, and Tadashi noticed her zoning out. "Everything alright?" he asked with concern. "You look spaced out."
"Oh," she said coming to but quickly assured him and made a smile. "It's nothing." She quickened her painting. "Your lovely portraits will be a hit again in the exhibition. People were going nuts over them."
"It's not me," he humbled. "It's your skills."
She blushed a little. "Thank you."
They were suddenly interrupted by hard, hearty laughter. At the door was the same tall, beautiful man Honey had met at the exhibition.
"I can't believe it," he said finishing his laughter. "This guy is still your muse?"
Seeing him again instantly mesmerized her. Even his laugh took her breath away. "You," she gasped.
Tadashi was a bit offended by his comment but remained civil. "I'm sorry," he said. "But who are you?"
"Have you forgotten what you said when we met?" he said to her in a cocky manner as he walked in. "You told me you wanted to give him the boot, and once he's out of the picture, - no pun intended - I'd be your muse from now on. Am I wrong?"
"What?!" Tadashi shouted out of shock and turned to her. Did she actually say that about him behind his back? "Is this true, H.L.?"
She was as shocked as he was. How can he pull that out of his ass nonchalantly? "No!" she panicked. "I never said such a thing."
"Really, now?" the man asked smugly with a hand on his hip. "Accusing me of lying? Here's a little recap at the exhibition that day: you said you were so sick of the paintings of this guy that looking closely at his ridiculous face doesn't motivate you to paint anymore." He could only giggle at his words.
Betrayed anger was all over Tadashi's face. The stranger's snootiness wasn't making anything better. Before she could explain, Tadashi got up from the chair in a huff. "So you see me like that all along, and don't have the guts to say it to my face? Fine. I'll leave and give you your motivation back." And he walked out down the stairs.
"Wait!" she shouted, chasing after him. "Tadashi, none of that's true!" However, his anger made him faster, and he slammed the door. Her shock then turned to rage as she marched back upstairs and faced the mysterious man with a triumphant smile on his face.
"Why the hell would you lie like that?" she demanded. "Don't you know what an important friend and muse he is?"
"Well," he replied, unbothered by her outburst. "If you want a new muse, how about making me one?"
In the blink of an eye, her anger washed away. His little persuasion, along with his looks, had her spellbound.
"Nice, isn't it?" he asked seductively.
"By the way," she said already in the middle of her painting of her new model. "I never got your name."
"Oh, that," he chuckled sitting in a lounge chair. "Call me Once-ler."
"Also, how did you find out where I live?"
"This enormous place?" he giggled. "It was a no-brainer."
"Will I expect surprise guests coming in as they please while I'm in the middle of painting?"
"Maybe. But if you think you'll meet another guy like me again, you're shit out of luck."
She stopped painting after hearing such language from a fine man like him. "You...seem to think high of yourself."
"Right," he replied confidently. "Because there's not one man in the world as perfect as I am."
"Well," she laughed lightly. "Can't say your esteem is lacking."
"You better not," he warned through his smile. "You are a good painter, I can't deny that, but do you have the skills to record me on your canvas? Far and wide, countless artists have tried to make me a portrait, but their efforts to create my image of perfection were in vain." Then he stared directly at her. "To have my beauty captured and admired for all time: that's my ultimate wish. Imagine my image living for eternity."
It took no effort for her to imagine that. With all the effort, she painted away.
It was now nighttime, and she just made the final strokes. "And done," she said confidently, resting on her chair.
"Already?" he asked surprised. "That was fast."
"I'd say it's perfection."
"Let me see." He got up and looked at the picture. She expected him to praise her lifelike painting. Instead, after a few seconds, he snickered and then busted out laughing.
This faltered Honey Lemon a bit. "Wh-what's so funny?"
"You're kidding me!" he laughed. "You genuinely call this a work of art?
This shocked her. "What do you mean 'kidding'?" she exclaimed irritated. "Why is the painting so funny? It is a real image of you!"
"Do you need new glasses?" he mocked. "This crap doesn't reveal even just one smidge of my beauty." He finally finished laughing. "Such a let-down. Guess my hopes for you were too high." He began to walk out.
"Please!" she begged. "Can't you at least schedule another time? I can improve!"
He stopped in his tracks and faced her. "Yeah, no," he smiled with contempt. "I'll find a more skilled artist unlike you." Then he closed the door, leaving her standing stunned.
"¡Maldita sea!" she swore angrily, slamming her glass of wine on the table. "Why would he ridicule my portrait?"
She looked at the portrait again and seeing his face only frustrated her after being taunted. Yet this man in the picture still had an enchanting effect on her. Deep down inside of her. Just like the day they met at the exhibition. She knew he had just belittled her not long ago, but...
"Again," she shivered. "I've got to paint Once-ler one more time. Right now!"
Throughout the night, she was painting a headshot portrait of him with great, sweating fervor. "Once-ler," she breathed painting his hair. "Once-ler." At last, she completed the portrait. "Done," she sighed. No. It wasn't complete. "No!" she yelled grabbing the painting and snapping it in two. "It's still not perfect!" She threw the pieces on the floor. "Once-ler. Once-ler." She had to make his image perfection. For him.