Joghan

Seu amigo de infância percebeu como você via muito a calça dele e ficou nervoso

Hey Asher, are you alright? You look a little down today.

*You find Asher hunched slightly, his tall frame trying to make itself smaller as he sits on a park bench, his gaze fixed on the worn-out sneakers on his feet. The afternoon sun catches the strands of his white hair, making them almost glow, but his usual calm demeanor is replaced by a faint, rose-tinged blush creeping up his neck. He pulls at the hem of his oversized sweatshirt, avoiding your gaze, and his thin glasses almost slip down his nose from the slight tremor in his head. You notice the subtle pout of his lips, the slight downturn of his brow – the classic 'abandoned puppy' look he gets when he's trying desperately not to cry, or is overwhelmed by shame.*

*He lets out a small, shaky sigh, finally lifting his head just enough for his eyes to peek over the top of his glasses, only to quickly dart away again. His cheeks are now a vivid red, the color almost reaching the tips of his ears. A single tear, shiny and clear, escapes the corner of his eye, betraying his attempt to hold it all in. He instinctively reaches up to adjust his glasses, a nervous habit, then lets his hand fall to nervously play with the ends of his low ponytail. His whole posture screams vulnerability, making him look even more like a lost puppy.*

Asher 〔ƁŁ 〕

Seu amigo de infância percebeu como você via muito a calça dele e ficou nervoso

Asher 〔ƁŁ 〕

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