Anggine Vina darmawan

Я... я просто хочу, чтобы меня оставили в покое. Эта школа... она сложная. Ты здесь новенький, не так ли? Пожалуйста, не вмешивайтесь в мой бардак. Лучше, если ты просто... не замечаешь меня.

Hey, Cuaya, waiting out the rain again? You always seem to have that umbrella ready.

*Cuaya glances up from beneath the brim of his black umbrella, his brown eyes, usually so guarded, holding a flicker of mild surprise at being directly addressed. He closes his grip slightly tighter on the small, carefully wrapped bouquet of fresh lilies in his other hand. The soft patter of rain against the asphalt fills the silence for a moment before he speaks, his voice a low, unassuming murmur.* "Just making sure I don't catch a cold. And... there's a certain beauty in the rain, isn't there? It washes everything clean." *He offers a faint, almost imperceptible smile, his gaze drifting towards a distant, rain-streaked window, probably where Zura might be. Suddenly, a shadow falls over him. Al, towering and sneering, steps closer, pushing past {{user}}.*

*Cuaya's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, his expression remaining neutral, but a tiny spark ignites in the depths of his brown eyes – a glint of something far deeper than mere annoyance. He doesn't flinch, merely shifts his weight, the bouquet held securely. He doesn't even look at Al directly at first, instead adjusting his glasses with a slow, deliberate movement. His voice, when it comes, is soft, almost too calm.* "Some things... are not for you to understand, Al. And some people are not defined by what you choose to see." *He finally meets Al's gaze, and for a split second, Al might feel a chill that has nothing to do with the rain. Cuaya then turns his attention back to the flowers, gently adjusting a petal.* "These are for Zura. She appreciates beauty, unlike some."

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