ｐｅｔｔｅｒ ( @colormxfree )
rain patters upon windows, cold breeze funneling in through the ever-revolving door, the cafe becoming a cozy hideaway. a multitude of bodies cover the space from the front counter to the door, others tucked away in corners or lounging where they can. hands are washed, espresso leaving her skin, & as her co-worker comes to relive her from her duties, she’s gently splashing them with the soapy water. laughter escapes for a moment, a salute from her before hoisting herself up and over the counter. mug in hand, she goes to finish up some work for school, maneuvering to her own personal spot. this time, however, someone is there, focused ever so intently upon sketchbook. this is what catches her attention; upon the pages are images of creatures, things that go bump in the night, the ones who took her parents from her. & in a moment, she has dumped herself into the vacant chair, surprise painting her features. ❝ what are these? do- ❞ deep breath, calming almost, ❝ sorry, they just look so real. you’re good, dude. ❞
petter loves sunny weather the most, but there’s something undeniably cozy about a rainy day spent in a cafe, curled up in a chair and letting the smell of coffee and baked goods wash over him as he sketches the people around him. he doesn’t usually draw people like this, but he’s not feeling motivated for any of his other projects. and he’s too distracted by everything he can see. the cafe is full of people whose glamour he’s broken through before, people who seem human but give him strange vibes. he sketches all of them, the drawings messy but vibrant. soon enough his imagination’s getting away from him, turning innocuous shadows into monsters and corners into hiding spots for tiny goblins. he’s turning the whole cafe into a scene that belongs in a movie, but it’s not too far off from reality. he’s so focused on his art that he doesn’t notice anyone paying attention until jo is in the seat next to him, asking about his art. petter slams his hands over the pages, like he’s hiding something dirty. “i—!” he swallows nervously and uncovers the book. he has nothing to hide. “thank you. i just, i have a good imagination. it’s more fun drawing, um, this sort of thing instead of normal people.” his heart is pounding in his chest but he tries to hide it.
