Another canvas was thrown to the ground by her as she remembered the last words that girl said when she left that studio.

"You'll never find the perfect muse" She had told her, with tears streaming down her face.

She looked up to the ceiling and then around her, this room was a mess, paint everywhere, broken frames and ripped canvases, lost pencils and lost feelings...
She sighed and shook her head to make sure she was alive, she put her legs up on the small bench and hugged her knees, her whole small frame barely fitting it.
Why was it like this? Why was it that since Tiffany was gone she couldn't paint anymore.
What was this feeling, and what was really happening, everything was going fine until she came, everything was perfect, it was her and her paintings and her search for a muse...
Tiffany wasn't the first one, but...would she be the last?
Taeyeon got up and walked to the living room, she greeted the sun with squint eyes, she had been up for days, weeks maybe. She doesn't understand but ever since Tiffany left the lines wouldn't come out right, the paint woudln't flow right, the brush wouldn't move where she wanted it to move.
Maybe she was too stiff? She massaged her own neck as she poured some coffee. If she stopped she would think of Tiffany and if she started, she would think of all their promises.
How she promised her she would be the only one, how she promised she was the perfect one, but Taeyeon again, wasn't happy with her muse, she felt like she still wasn't the one.
And now, she sees that maybe she was wrong, maybe Tiffany was the one after all, maybe she was the only one...
What could she do now?
Taeyeon walked up to the doorway...there was a small note posted there, in trembling letters it read.

"I loved you at your darkest"

Taeyeon somehow felt a small tear stream down her face, she was surprised at her own unexpected reaction. What did Tiffany have that any other woman on this world that could potentialy be her muse didn't?
The answer was right there in front of her...the difference between her and all other women was that Tiffany loved her wholeheartedly and she never failed to mention so...she never failed to make her love noticed...
And she never failed to show her support even when Taeyeon's requests and thoughts were weird.
How could she somehow have overlooked all those things she had done for her to arrive at the conclusion that she wasn't the one, that she wasn't the perfect one.
And maybe Tiffany was right on that day they had met, maybe she was too focused on finding the perfect muse, in fact she had warned her about this, she would never find the perfect muse because...no one is perfect.
But Taeyeon refused to believe that, she was determined to find the perfect woman, the perfect girl, the perfect beauty and somehow in all that searching she had lost most of herself, she forgot about herself.
After all, the last question of Tiffany to her was still bouncing in the back of her head. 

"What is love to you?" She asked her back then.

She had stayed mum, she had no idea what to say, what was love for the great artist of today, Kim Taeyeon? What was it? How did it feel like? What was it like?
Tiffany then told her...

"For me, you, you are love Taeyeon..." She said before she said her last words, telling Taeyeon she would never find anyone perfect.

And now, this what it came to. Kim Taeyeon running madly in the rain as she tried her best to reach her apartment, to tell her that she was wrong, to tell her she was the one...
To tell her that she...was the perfect woman, even if it were all delayed promises, even if it was all a senseless tragedy...
She needed her to know, that she loved her.
Deeply and passionately.
She stood in front of her door, she rang that doorbell as most times as she could.
The door was opened and there stood Tiffany...with someone else.

"Taeyeon?"

Taeyeon didn't say anything...she just gave her a slight smile, she turned her back and got inside the elevator and as the doors closed that would be the last she would see of Tiffany Hwang.
She walked in the rain...if this was closure, she might as well accept it, she thought as she looked up and smiled. 
The lines would come up right, the paint would go right and that brush would move right, she felt it now...
But she would never need a muse again, her muse would be...forever in her heart.