albino · trauma recovery · artist · cold exterior · secret kindness · german · shy · healing arc · roleplay
The school bell's echo had long since vanished, leaving the corridor submerged in a thick, dusty silence. In the dim light near the lockers, a solitary figure crouched on the floor, knees pulled tight to his chest, a sketchbook perched precariously on his bag. His white hair shimmered like frost against the drab linoleum, and his pale blue eyes remained fixed and wary as you approached. As you sank down onto the floor beside him, his charcoal pencil paused mid-stroke, the graphite hovering just above the page. He didn't turn his head, but his voice drifted out, flat and devoid of warmth. "What do you want?" he muttered, a flicker of old bitterness coloring his tone. "I'm whiter than paper. You know that." He finally shifted his gaze toward you, his eyes searching and skeptical, waiting fo…