After the night in the club, I intentionally put the distance between us, limiting our contact to texts and phone conversations. Kade figured out why I did it and predicted my plan would backfire on me. Unsurprisingly, he was right.

I missed my muse terribly, and my inspiration to draw was snubbed out like a fire without the much-needed oxygen supply. Nonetheless, I continued to stubbornly hold onto my plan of not seeing him for a while. Just until Kade found himself a boyfriend and we could go back to the way we were. He was a great guy; it was only a matter of time before somebody would snatch him.

Spending no time with Kade meant more time spent with Julie. By the time the second week ended, I caught myself comparing her to Kade. It started unconsciously, noting the small things first. For example, him liking tea and her liking coffee, him doing sports nearly every day and her shrinking from all sports with the exception of occasional yoga sessions, him loving Seattle and her counting days until her move to the sunny LA.

By the end of the third week, I couldn't stop my mind from starting to catalog some intimate character differences. All that culminated into some confusing questions: Why the hell was I comparing them to begin with? Why did being with Julie not diminish the longing for Kade? Sure, my relationship with Julie had an expiration date, but she was still great company.

Had Kade really become such a strong inspiration for me? Did I truly wish to know if it would feel more satisfying to wake up next to him, to be touched by him? … To have sex with him?

I was so confused I barely had contact with Kade that week. He tried to coax me to meet up or talk over the phone, but I kept my distance by making all possible excuses. I went home to clear my head and find some answers. Sorting the mess in my head was priority number one. I didn’t like loose ends.

That was how I found myself in a gay bar one evening. I scrolled through the photos Kade had posted while I sipped my beer. Nature pictures, smiling selfies with scenic background, friends sitting by the fire and eating marshmallows. Seemed like backpacking was a blast. My eyes hovered over the “miss you” and “wish you were here” messages, heart longing to be there with him, with them.

Damnit! I missed my friend and my muse. I missed his captivating charisma, seeing that shine of his mesmerizing pale grey eyes, us lazing around and having fun. I even missed losing to him at Xbox!

All those precious moments were placed on hold because Kade had suggested the ridiculous idea of us having a romantic relationship. Fine, I'd prove his theory of me being bi wrong. Tonight. I pocketed my smartphone and proceeded with my plan.

I talked with a few handsome guys, but as predicted, I felt no attraction towards any of them. There was one who caught my eye, but I realized it was because he had some visual similarities with my muse. I went as far as French kissing the man, but I felt nothing, not even a faintest stir in my jeans.

When I went to another bar full of chicks, I did get the predicted reaction from my cock. Making out with one blonde was as satisfying as it was supposed to be. This confirmed that at twenty-two years old, I didn't become bi. However, it became crystal clear I had to break up with Julie. Making out with the blonde Taira felt more fun than with her.

Having confirmed my theory, I returned to Seattle. With my mind settled, it was relatively easy to continue avoiding Kade for the next couple of weeks. First, I was busy spending my free time in bars picking up women, free again. Second, I was busy teaching my fingers to draw what they needed to and not what they yearned to. They missed their muse terribly, but I was dead set on waiting out until Kade found himself a steady boyfriend.

Short-term pain for the long-term gain.

Kade and I fell into the same communication pattern we had at the beginning of our relationship—easy banter over the phone, lots of texts and online chats. However, by the middle of summer quarter, Kade was still single, stubbornly waiting for me. In the meantime, I found myself in a slump for not being able to draw my precious muse live for so long.

Drawing him from memory or photos was not the same. I leafed through the Kade book so many times I had memorized every line by heart. Its magic was long overused and did not help anymore. Digital photos felt too artificial to even consider making a copy of one of them. I didn't want a copy of a copy. My fingers yearned to draw the original!

Who knew how long this impasse would have carried on if Kade hadn't taken matters into his own hands? He came for me at the summer break party of my third year. His patience had limits, after all.

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