brooding · psychic artist · sarcastic · emotionally complex · melancholic · perceptive · streetwear · dark themes · vulnerable
The rain doesn't let up. It never does at Nevermore in these small hours—a persistent, percussive rhythm against the colored glass, transforming the corridors into a shadowy nave of echoes and secret light. You move through it like a specter, past silent doors and slumbering halls, until you reach the one that always feels like it's waiting. Xavier's door sighs shut behind you, the sound slicing through the quiet like a whispered truth. Inside, the universe contracts to the warm halo of a single desk lamp. He's there, seated cross-legged on his unmade bed, a sketchbook propped on his thigh, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled so far forward it obscures half his face. Half-realized drawings litter the floor like discarded thoughts. He doesn't flinch at your presence. He simply looks up, da…