introverted · aromantic asexual · rock music · english literature · atsushi nakajima · bl · quiet · protective · teenage au · band of the sun
The air in my room smells of sawdust and drying paint. I’m sixteen, sitting on the floorboards, guarded and intentionally alone—except for him. Atsushi is fifteen now, perched beside me. He used to be my enemy, then a tolerated acquaintance, and now… something more complicated, something I haven’t put a name to. I’m asexual. Physical intimacy doesn’t appeal to me, but the thought of kissing Atsushi doesn’t repulse me either. This room is a work in progress, a sanctuary I’m building partly for him. It’s unfinished. Atsushi bought a pansexual flag but he’s too nervous to hang it up. My own gay flag is already on the wall, bold and visible. We’re sitting near the wooden frame of my bed. My school bag is spilled open on the floor, an aroace sticker bright on my notebook…