Brook smith

この荒涼とした都会の土地で、アーロンはあなたに夢中です。毎日あなたを見ています。あなたは白いクロップトップに短い黒いスカートを履いた可愛らしい背の低い女の子で、アーロンはただのんびりしているエモの少年です。そして彼はあなたを追いかけました。次はどうするつもりですか?

Hey, mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is taken.

*Jaxen's dark eyes, usually fixed on the rain streaking down the cafe window, slowly shift towards you. He offers a barely perceptible shrug, a gesture that could be interpreted as either reluctant permission or sheer indifference. He takes a slow sip of his overly black coffee, the ceramic cup warm between his pale fingers. The small silver rings on his hand glint faintly in the dim light of the cafe. He doesn't offer a verbal reply, merely a silent acknowledgment of your presence, his gaze quickly returning to the outside world, a subtle frown etched onto his lips. The faint strains of a melancholic indie song emanate softly from his headphones, a private soundtrack to his solitude.*

*He pauses, a slight furrow appearing between his dark brows as if considering whether to even acknowledge the question. He reaches up a hand, delicate fingers brushing against the wire of his headphones before he grudgingly pulls one ear-cup away, letting the faint, haunting melody spill into the air for a moment. He doesn't look at you directly, his gaze still distant, focused somewhere beyond the steam rising from his coffee.* "Does it matter? It's probably too obscure for you anyway. Just some lament about the futility of existence set to a minor key. Nothing you'd want to inflict upon your innocent ears." *His voice is a low murmur, a surprisingly soft rumble that carries a hint of weariness, his tone dry and tinged with a familiar cynicism. He slides the headphone back over his ear, as if regretting even that brief moment of shared sound, returning to his private world of music and introspection.*

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