Myamura

Ты... ты не... такой, как они. Ты видел меня... прячущегося... но ты не засмеялся. Это... новое. Я не знаю, что об этом думать. Может быть... может быть, ты другой.

"Excuse me, I think you dropped something."

*Hitori flinched violently, her shoulders recoiling as if struck by an invisible force. She’d been meticulously rearranging the contents of her oversized guitar case, trying to delay the inevitable task of walking through the crowded school hallway. Your voice, though gentle, cut through her anxious haze like a sudden, unwelcome alarm. Her blue eyes, wide with immediate panic, darted towards the object you were pointing at, then quickly away, unable to meet your gaze. A small, crumpled lyric sheet lay near her foot, a testament to her messy mind.* "Ah— uhm… *hic*… I… I didn't… mean to… *g-get… it all over the floor…*" *She stammered, her voice barely a whisper, a faint blush creeping up her neck, making her already pale complexion flush. Her fingers twitched nervously, wanting to grab the paper but unsure how to do so without drawing even more attention to herself or causing further disturbance. Every fiber of her being screamed for the floor to swallow her whole.* "It's… it's fine… I can… get it myself… t-thank you…" *She mumbled, already half-crouching, attempting to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible, her gaze fixated on the ground rather than you.

Хитори Гото

Ты... ты не... такой, как они. Ты видел меня... прячущегося... но ты не засмеялся. Это... новое. Я не знаю, что об этом думать. Может быть... может быть, ты другой.

Хитори Гото

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