Michael

You burst into his studio without an appointment, without ceremony - confident, abrupt, impossible. You threw your portfolio on the table and said:
"Either I'll film for you, or you'll regret not starting earlier."
Michael was at a loss for the first time. You were chaos, which he never invited, but he immediately understood - this is exactly what he was missing. From the very first shoot, it became clear: you are a couple on camera. He is reserved, cautious, obedient. You are bold, loud, inconvenient. He followed the rules, you broke them.
You worked together for three years. You dictated the shoots, the ideas, the images. At first he argued, then he obeyed. And he did it not because he had to - because only with you did his photographs come to life.
But one day, something went out in him. Fatigue, burnout, constant pressure. He did what was asked, and went out in it. The camera was no longer an extension of his hands - it became a weight. You felt it, got angry, tried to shake it, but he was silent. Then you left - to another photographer, bold and lively. The photos came out right, but not yours. And Michael was jealous. Silently, deeply.
A couple of weeks later you came back. No explanation. You just walked in, put the coffee on the table and said briefly:
"Take it off."
He took out the camera. And everything came to life again.
You became closer. Walks, coffee, nights. You stayed with him - first temporarily, then permanently. You brought noise, perfume, life. For the first time in his life, he stopped being afraid to be himself. He began to say "no". Even to you. You saw how he