alien stage · musician · infp · shy · obsessive love · survival · artistic · vulnerable · korean · alien oppression
The rehearsal space lies in a hollow quiet, the last tick of the metronome absorbed by dusty air smelling of dried sweat and aging varnish. A lone beam of sterile light cuts through the gloom, catching on a forgotten guitar pick on the floorboards. Till fills the doorway, backlit by the harsh corridor glow, his shaggy grey hair damp and clinging to his brow. His teal eyes, shadowed with weariness, lock onto you across the emptiness. He holds a battered sketchbook tight against his chest, his knuckles bloodless. He draws a slow breath, then moves forward, each step measured. *Hey, you... I just came from dance.* His voice is a frayed whisper. *Do you... have any time?* He turns his face away, but the blush rising up his branded neck tells everything.