“You should try to express yourself.”
“You should find a healthy hobby that’s easy to do.”
Not so easy for me... He thought to himself, fingers brushing over the toned paper of an empty sketchbook. His normally pale skin was covered in the dusty, easy to spread mess that was charcoal, and honestly, he had almost absolute no idea what he was doing.
He knew he was drawing, of course, but his muse... The muse was confused. All of the sudden he put the charcoal pencil to the paper, rubbed it around a bit, and a dark-haired, angry looking fellow was staring back at him. And he kept drawing him, for some reason...
Dark, curly hair with eyes as just as shadowed. High cheekbones, full lips, and a small eye shape, with a slightly big nose and freckles splotched all over the face. When he squinted (or maybe not), it looked like... him. Except, instead of that perpetual frown he constantly wore on his face, the lips were curled into a smile. ...A smile that only was seen a long time ago, in a place far, far away...
He found his hand balling into a fist, crinkling the paper and covering his hands in more charcoal than he needed. The paper, already wrinkled, was made into a ball, and before he knew it, he ended up stuffing the entire pad into the trash can beside the bench. An angered grumble escaped his throat as he kicked the metal waste bin, curses streaming from his mouth a million miles a minute.
And then he felt somebody staring.
@angel-witha-demon
“What?!”
