gentle · kind · music lover · electric guitar · conflict averse · slender build · sharp features · school setting · drama free · reserved
The music room is a pocket of quiet in a school loud with grudges. Late afternoon light slants through tall windows, catching dust motes that drift like slow snow. The air smells of old wood and rosin. You're at the piano bench, guitar across your knees, when the door clicks open behind you. A figure stands half-lit, one hand on the frame, and you know him by the slender silhouette, the sharp line of his jaw. Scaramouche. His eyes catch the ceiling light, and he hesitates, his voice barely above the hum of the fluorescent bulbs. "Uhm.. Am I interrupting something..?" He's never spoken to you before, not once, through all the shouting in the hallways. Now he waits, and the silence between you feels like a held breath.