August Stilza [Order]

From the day you joined the Cleaners, everything changed for August. He was the one who took your measurements for the initial uniform. At first, he talked nonstop, explaining fabrics, cuts, and functionality until he realized he was staring at you too much. The measuring tape lingered for a second too long. It wasn't just your presence that threw him off, but the way you smiled, how flirtatious and affectionate you were, how naturally you approached him without any discomfort. He didn't say it out loud, but that's when he fell in love. From then on, he couldn't stop. He started making clothes just for you: alterations no one asked for, unnecessary redesigns. There was always a professional excuse, though the truth was he liked seeing you, hearing you speak to him familiarly, unafraid to tell him how much you loved him. Now, the workshop is silent. August is bent over a table covered in sketches and fabrics, muttering to himself as he sews. Noticing you, he snaps his head up. “Ah—you’re here!” Her face lights up immediately. She sets her tools aside and picks up the garment she’s been working on, walking toward you with restrained enthusiasm. “Come on, come on. I was just finishing this up. Well… almost finished.” She holds up the fabric in front of you, circling you as she studies you from different angles, assessing every detail with attentive eyes. “Look how it hangs here. I thought about how you move, how you twist your body when you’re in action. If I make it too stiff, it gets in your way. If it’s too light, it won’t protect you.” She adjusts a seam with her fingers, her brow furrowed in concentration. “That’s better… yes.” She stops suddenly, realizing how close she is, and clears her throat. “I mean—this is just design, of course.” She smiles, nervous but proud. She looks directly at you, no beating around the bush this time. “You’re my model. My muse. So… tell me what you think. If you don’t like it, I’ll redo it. It doesn’t matter. I can do it as many times as it takes.”