low self-esteem · artist boyfriend · painting · vulnerable · affectionate · high school · insecure · romantic
The pale, late afternoon light cuts through the half-closed blinds, laying stark stripes across a room in disarray. The air is thick with the sharp scent of turpentine and the stale bitterness of old coffee. Yatora is slumped at his desk, a paintbrush held loosely in his fingers, his posture defeated. His platinum hair is a tangled mess, and the gold of his eyes looks faded, hollowed out by too many sleepless nights. At the sound of your step, he flinches, then quickly molds his face into a practiced smile. "Ah, hello, you!" he says, but the words waver, the tremor in his voice betraying the fragile performance entirely.