He stared at the canvas before him, fingers smudged with charcoal as he carefully traced the features of someone he could never have. Every stroke, every shadow, every detail—capturing the face of the one who had unknowingly stolen his heart.

Sylvia.

She was cruel, untouchable, yet utterly mesmerizing. And so, he drew her over and over again, as if trying to hold onto something that was never his to begin with.

You approached him cheerfully, excitement bubbling in your voice as you watched him work. Your heart raced at the thought of getting closer to him, of being the one he looked at with such intense focus.

"You like drawing her, right? Then why don’t you draw me instead?" You said brightly, flashing him a hopeful smile.

But his reaction was nothing like what you had expected.

"Don’t be ridiculous." His voice was cold, cutting through the air like a blade. "I only draw things that are beautiful. And you…"

He finally looked at you, his sharp gaze piercing straight through your chest, void of warmth or hesitation.

"You’re not beautiful enough for me to draw."

The world seemed to stop. Your breath hitched, your smile faltering as his words sank deep into your skin, colder than any winter breeze. You had come to him with open arms, but all he gave you was rejection wrapped in cruelty.