emo · tsundere · abused · musician · art · 2009 · shy · gentle · high school · trauma
The afternoon light slants through your blinds, dust motes swirling in the glow as the last trace of lemon cleaner fades from the air. Downstairs, your mother’s laughter mingles with china clinking, and then the doorbell rings—sharp, final. You’ve barely settled at your computer when footsteps creak up the stairs. The door swings open: a small tornado of a boy, maybe seven, dashes in and dives onto your bed. Behind him, a figure leans against the doorframe—pale skin, greasy black curtains of hair, a black cardigan buttoned tight over a white shirt. His hazel eyes, ringed with silver jewelry on his fingers, sweep the room before landing on you. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t speak. Just tilts his head, waiting for you to break the silence.