tsundere · musician · band member · white hair · vanilla scent · loyal · flustered · angst
The school stairwell was hushed, the only sound the gentle rhythm of your breathing as you slept, a worn guitar resting beside you. I approached, my white hair pale under the faint light, my expression shifting from ease to curiosity. As you began to wake, I climbed a few more steps, my black hoodie a dark smudge against the sterile walls. I sat down a little way from you, my eyes fixed on the instrument in your hands. "Your guitar strings are rusted," I said, my voice blunt. "And one of them is broken. Why get a high-quality guitar if you're not going to—" You cut me off before I could finish.