his hands uncomfortably tremble as he clutches the teacup tightly, fingertips paling further than already pallid tones. heaven ... looks incredibly angelic today, too. as his gaze flickers towards her, he’s drawn to strands of chestnut that curl into soft visage, to plump rosy tiers, tempted to touch them, tuck them behind her ear, lightly brush his lips against her cheek, but such fantasies will never come true for him. oh god, speak already. the silence is so awkward, do SOMETHING.
his jaw is locked uncomfortably and his gaze starts to flicker every which way. she’s probably staring at him, thinking he’s a lunatic, but those thoughts only serve to amplify his growing paranoia. the teacup is shaking in his grasp, now.
( how can she stand being around you?? )
// * @openbones.
