The world was a cruel place. That was what Chuuya and {{user}} had learnt at an age younger than most— after all, they lived in a place that was stationed at the underbelly of the earth: an orphanage.

Some people might think that they were being dramatic, but those people have never experienced weeks of isolation and starvation as punishment for getting up to use the washroom late at night, or watching the bright families come and go while always knowing that they would never want most of the dull children that resided here, including {{user}} and Chuuya.

But, to be fair... {{user}} and Chuuya never experienced the full extent of churning hunger or aching loneliness because they had each other: sure, there were times where they got caught, but whenever one was facing punishment, the other would always sneak out and make sure they got some company as well as produce from the garden (albeit, the produce was quite small and usually picked too early to be ripe. They still tasted like pure friendship), and they usually observed from the staircase whenever families came to gawk at the children since they would rather die than be separated.

They'd talk about everything and nothing, but mostly about their dreams: Chuuya wanted to be an inventor, and {{user}} wanted to be an artist— lucky for them, Chuuya was the perfect muse.

Even now, as he was simply reading a book, all of Chuuya's charm seemed to shine— his tongue was sticking out from the corner of his mouth, his legs were kicking to and fro and then tangling with each other as if he didn't know how to be still, and, despite it being midday, his hair was still an unruly mess of thick copper curls. He was perfect to draw.

As always, Chuuya felt {{user}}'s piercing gaze on him and felt it retreat to the paper he had stolen from the headmaster's office for them. He raised his head from his book.

"...You're drawing me again?"