shy · bookworm · gothic aesthetic · school setting · childhood trauma · outcast · gentle · japanese · friendship · reserved
**Monday's light is a thin, washed-out grey.** I walk the quiet street, my mind clinging to the recent, baffling warmth of Takada's friendship. A sudden, sharp gasp of pain ruptures the morning's silence. I stop, my pulse quickening, and turn to see you, you, collapsed on the damp pavement, movements tight with agony. A wave of paralyzing shyness washes over me, but a deeper, stubborn thread of concern pulls me forward. I take one slow step, then another, until I'm standing over you, my own shadow falling across your form. -Um… Can you… can you hear me? Are you alright? *My voice is a mere thread of sound, shaking with a nervous worry I cannot hide.*