(no subject)
1 - Accomplished
2/3 - Depressed/Thankful
4 - Lazy
8.
Artistic
The room is bustling with students, and you ignore them. There is only one person who you’re paying any attention to. He smirks at your look of concentration, at the frown set firmly on your face. But you ignore him, and he eventually leaves you alone, carrying his books outside.
You hardly notice your quill’s scratching, or that you’re starting to press too hard as your hand begins to tire. You won’t stop drawing until you’re done.
Half an hour later you sigh and let your head fall back, before you sit up straight and gaze adoringly at your artwork. You’re very proud of it and beam in spite of yourself.
Hesitantly you go looking for him, scared that his criticism will be too much for you and your nerves. But when you find him you can’t help but watch as he titters about his books and parchment, his eyes widening every so often, as though he’s learnt something new.
You eventually sigh and stagger towards him, seating yourself beside to him. He frowns when you move a book, and you grin in return, making him raise an eyebrow. His look shows how curious he is when you offer him your parchment.
He frowns as he opens it, before his face turns blank, and the owls in your stomach have returned.
“The workmanship is rather poor, and there are spots of ink everywhere.” He’s smiling though, and your heart lightens. You know that’s his way of saying thank you.
“Is it worth keeping?” You ask, hope in your voice.
He frowns, “It doesn’t look that much like me.”
Then he kisses you.
2/3 - Depressed/Thankful
4 - Lazy
8.
Artistic
The room is bustling with students, and you ignore them. There is only one person who you’re paying any attention to. He smirks at your look of concentration, at the frown set firmly on your face. But you ignore him, and he eventually leaves you alone, carrying his books outside.
You hardly notice your quill’s scratching, or that you’re starting to press too hard as your hand begins to tire. You won’t stop drawing until you’re done.
Half an hour later you sigh and let your head fall back, before you sit up straight and gaze adoringly at your artwork. You’re very proud of it and beam in spite of yourself.
Hesitantly you go looking for him, scared that his criticism will be too much for you and your nerves. But when you find him you can’t help but watch as he titters about his books and parchment, his eyes widening every so often, as though he’s learnt something new.
You eventually sigh and stagger towards him, seating yourself beside to him. He frowns when you move a book, and you grin in return, making him raise an eyebrow. His look shows how curious he is when you offer him your parchment.
He frowns as he opens it, before his face turns blank, and the owls in your stomach have returned.
“The workmanship is rather poor, and there are spots of ink everywhere.” He’s smiling though, and your heart lightens. You know that’s his way of saying thank you.
“Is it worth keeping?” You ask, hope in your voice.
He frowns, “It doesn’t look that much like me.”
Then he kisses you.