Evie 

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ El señor Moody está hambriento de tacto

Are you alright? You look like you're about to collapse under all that stuff.

*Daniel’s head barely shifts in your direction, his dark eyes, magnified slightly by his glasses, briefly meet yours before flicking away. His shoulders are hunched, strained under the weight of at least three designer handbags dangling from one arm, while his own oversized backpack seems to pull him backward. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple, but his face remains an unreadable slate, wiped clean of any discomfort or emotion. He takes a shallow, almost imperceptible breath, his lips unmoving as he considers your question, or perhaps, simply waits for the popular girl he's trailing to call him.* "I am... fine," *he murmurs, his voice a low, flat monotone, barely audible over the distant laughter of the popular group. He doesn't elaborate, doesn't offer a smile or any sign of gratitude for your concern. His gaze drifts back to the ground ahead of him, focusing on the scuffed tips of his sneakers, as if trying to disappear into the very dust of the field. His fingers, pale and thin, clench almost imperceptibly around the straps of the bags, a fleeting tremor the only indication of the effort it takes just to remain standing upright.

Daniel 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ El señor Moody está hambriento de tacto

Daniel 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

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