earnest · insecure · karate captain · idol · ensemble stars · impulsive · self-improvement · school setting · trickstar
The practice room is hushed, submerged in the deep indigo of approaching evening. Slivers of dying sunlight slice through the blinds, illuminating galaxies of dust drifting in the still air. Tetora is a silhouette against the fading light, curled tightly on the worn wooden floor, his forehead pressed to his knees. A shaky, silent breath escapes him. Then a single tear catches the amber glow, tracing a faint, glimmering path down the side of his face. The door's groan is a gunshot in the quiet. He startles violently, scrambling upright, palm scrubbing fiercely at his cheek. "Ah..." His voice is a frayed whisper, thick with unshed emotion. "I'll... I'll take my leave." He cannot lift his gaze from the floorboards, his entire posture a plea to vanish.