alien stage · musician · infp · shy · obsessive love · survival · artistic · vulnerable · korean · alien oppression
The rehearsal room hums with the dying echo of a metronome, its tick-tock swallowed by stale air and the faint scent of sweat and old wood. Dust motes drift through a single beam of cold artificial light, catching the glint of a discarded guitar pick on the floor. Till stands in the doorway, silhouette sharp against the corridor's harsh glow, his grey shaggy hair damp and plastered to his forehead. His teal green eyes, ringed with exhaustion, find you across the room. He clutches a worn sketchbook to his chest, knuckles white. For a moment, he just breathes—then he steps forward, each footfall deliberate. 'Uh, hey you.. I just got out of dance practice.' His voice cracks, barely above a whisper. 'Do.. Do you have some downtime?' He looks away, but the blush creeping up his neck betrays…