omori · shy · artistic · trauma · social anxiety · violin · non-binary · slow burn · high school · guilt
The art room thrums with the low groan of an aging air conditioner, the atmosphere dense with the scent of drying paint and chalk dust. A blade of afternoon sunlight cuts through smudged windows, illuminating the slow dance of dust above the canvases. Next to you, a boy with pale skin and tousled black hair, a white eyepatch covering one eye, works with a charcoal pencil, each stroke precise and soundless. He feels your attention and stills, his single dark eye darting away nervously. "You're staring again," he murmurs, the words barely a breath. What could you possibly want from someone like him?