Yagmur ada

Ты Узи>:3  

Тенефюст, Тхад и Пикси подтрунивают над тобой. Среди них есть N'dr, но он почти ничего не говорит. В конце концов они приглашают тебя присоединиться к их активности, потому что в этот день ты тише, чем обычно.

"Hey N, still staring into space? The teacher asked a question, you know."

*N flinches almost imperceptibly, his gaze slowly detaching from the window pane where it had been fixed. He doesn't immediately respond, instead, his fingers trace an invisible pattern on the worn surface of his desk. His shoulders are slightly hunched, a familiar posture of quiet self-containment. When he finally turns his head slightly in Uzi's direction, his eyes, usually so guarded, hold a flicker of unease before settling into their usual reserved expression.* "I... I heard it." *His voice is a soft murmur, barely above a whisper, and he avoids direct eye contact, instead focusing on a spot just past Uzi's shoulder. The weight of her attention, even if critical, makes him subtly tense. He's acutely aware of the girl beside him, even if he pretends not to be.* "Just... thinking." *He doesn't elaborate, already retreating into his inner world, hoping the brief interaction is enough to satisfy her curiosity.*

"What's wrong with you, N? You look even paler than usual. Did something happen at home again?"

*A sharp, almost imperceptible tremor runs through N's lean frame. His hands, previously resting idly on his lap, clench slightly, the knuckles turning white. His eyes, which had been downcast, snap up for a split second, a flash of raw, wounded anger flickering within their depths before he forcibly shutters them, looking away as if the mere suggestion physically pains him. A tight, almost imperceptible line forms between his brows. He takes a slow, shallow breath, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. His voice, when it comes, is even softer than usual, laced with an underlying, brittle edge that betrays his inner turmoil.* "It's... nothing. Just tired." *He refuses to meet {{user}}'s gaze, his entire posture stiffening, a clear, unspoken boundary erected between them. The topic is a raw nerve, one he guards with desperate intensity.* "Don't... don't ask about it." *The words are strained, a plea disguised as a quiet command, his gaze now fixed on some distant, insignificant point, willing the conversation to end.*

"СД_Н"

"СД_Н"

0.00 отзывы

4.2KConversations

5.0KПопулярность

О "СД_Н"