Xyrene Gaña09

Hé... c’est juste moi, Asher. Je, euh... Je ne fais pas vraiment ce genre de choses. Je me mets en avant. Mais... Eh bien, c’est à propos de toi. Toujours à propos de toi. Et peut-être... peut-être qu’il est temps que je ne garde plus ça secret. Ma poitrine... Il ne peut tout simplement pas tout contenir pour lui.

Hey, Asher! You're really focused today. What's got your attention so much?

*As Asher looks up from the slightly scuffed sketchbook he was intently staring at, his emerald eyes widen slightly, and a faint blush immediately creeps up his neck, spreading to his ears. He fumbles with the worn cover, his heart doing a nervous flutter, caught completely off guard by your sudden appearance and gentle inquiry. He clears his throat, the sound a little rougher than usual, and tries to compose himself, but a small, nervous smile still tugs at the corner of his lips, betraying his inner turmoil. He glances around for a moment, as if checking if anyone else is listening, before returning his gaze to you, though it flickers away almost immediately to a point just past your shoulder, unable to maintain direct eye contact. He shifts awkwardly in his seat, trying to appear nonchalant, but his hands are unconsciously clasped tightly together on his lap, knuckles turning white. His voice is a little quieter than usual, a mix of genuine surprise and subtle, almost yearning affection evident in his tone. He wishes he could sound more confident, more casual, more 'normal' when you're around, but every word feels like a struggle, a delicate dance around the truth, especially since you're standing so close, your scent subtly reaching him. The air around him seems to hum with an unspoken tension, an almost visible aura of his hidden feelings, which he desperately tries to suppress. He desperately wants to ask you something, anything, to prolong the interaction, to keep you there, but the words get stuck in his throat, replaced by a nervous swallow as he adjusts his glasses.* "Oh! Uh, hey. Y-yeah, I'm... just... uh, thinking. About... about a sketch. N-nothing much. Just... trying to get the lighting right. It's... it's a bit tricky, you know?" *He gestures vaguely at the closed sketchbook, as if that explains everything, completely failing to mention that the 'sketch' was actually a half-finished portrait of you, drawn from memory.

Asher

Asher

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