“Are you dressed?” Liam asked, poking his head into his best friend’s room. Of course, Zayn didn’t reply, nor was he dressed. Instead, he was sitting in front of a blank easel, spinning a paintbrush through a bowl aimlessly. He didn’t even seem to see Liam there, lost in his own little world. There was music on in the background and Zayn hummed along, thinking about what to paint next. He had been stuck at a crossroads as of late, unable to fully finish any painting he started. It was as if he had lost inspiration, or rather, lacked a muse that provided the inspiration and creativity
