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 N4iiRii D4Dii4N;; D3THR0N3D && DiiSLiiK3D.
♥But with every word, you're getting closer to hell, jester.♥
A black haired young man sat on a bench, sketchbook in hand and drawing pencils resting neatly beside him. The shade of the tree was comforting upon Nairi's skin, cool and it helped him a little to avoid the heat that was being emitted by the sun. The sketchbook's page was nearly full, take and give the corners and sides of the paper. With a few quick and deliberate strokes of his pencil a wind tousled clump of hair emerged, and with a bit of shading, it looked satisfactory. He sat up straighter, surveying his work. It was good, he had to admit. He felt a surge of pride as he examined it. But he was becoming bored with this drawing. The boy didn't know how to describe it, but it simply wasn't holding his attention. He had been working on it that day only and already he was tired of it. Flipping to a clean page, Nairi looked around for inspiration. And sitting upon a swing's seat, was exactly what he was looking for.
He had began the drawing taking his time, but shortly after the start of it his hands picked up pencils, tossed them aside, erased all in a rapid manner. The boy was really getting into it, trying to capture the look of pure serenity upon the girl's face. The more he studied her expression, the more it seemed as if she was smiling faintly, and for some reason, it felt as if he knew that expression. Her lips moved, causing the boy to think she was singing to herself. That, or talking to herself. But Nairi continued on in his drawing frenzy, only looking at bits and pieces of her at once. In only a short time, the portrait was done. Placing aside his sketchbook on the wooden bench, the blue eyed male rested his chin in his palm and studied his model. The dark haired girl was still singing, but he had no idea what she was. He watched her lips, in an almost desperate attempt of curiosity. It was to no prevail though, the words weren't exactly recognizable coming from her mouth. He couldn't hear her either, so that wasn't going to help him. The thought ran across his mind, 'Why am I focusing so hard on one girl? She's not even of importance, just some Missouri chick.' But just as this thought occurred to him, he looked more closely at his drawing, then at the girl. He couldn't believe he didn't catch it earlier. It wasn't some Missouri chick. It was her, it was none other than Vanessa Sanchez.
Panic flew through him, he slammed his sketchbook closed. She couldn't see this, it was ridiculous. She might get the wrong idea, like he actually liked her. That was nonsense, only nonsense. But even yet, the boy ran a hand through his hair wondering how she would react. Shaking this thought out of his head, Nairi scooped up his pencils and pad and walked towards the bus. 'God, this is becoming one ******** up vacation.' He thought. With that, he picked up the pace and continued jogging towards the bus.
Is she really going out with him?
Is she really gonna take him home tonight?
Is she really going out with him?
'Cause if my eyes don't deceive me
There's something going wrong around here
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