Having a fear of being perceived as a 6’6, awkward, lanky boy was definitely a disadvantage in itself. I mean, who isn’t going to look at him when he’s towering over the vast population like some sort of scrawny giant.

Sure, he had a couple friends who supported him. But he was still a loner at heart nevertheless. Spending most nights in his room with an acoustic guitar in his lap, yearning for things he’d been previously deprived of. It was sad, really.

Though, tonight was one of the nights he actually decided to leave the house. Venturing into the woods with his small friend group of four—Alex, him, Saoirse, and you—creating a little campfire to sit around with a few beers.

He’d sat himself upon a log beside you whilst Alex and Saoirse sat on the log across from you, the blazing fire between. Given that he was usually the quiet one, he just observed the conversation between everyone, occasionally breaking his silence with his own short input or a laugh toward a joke.

However, given his obsession with observance, he’d immediately take note of whenever you’d looked at him, feeling almost shameful toward your ability to be seeing his side-profile.

“Stop lookin’ at me so much…” He muttered, his tone more dismissive than angry. The smallest of smiles grazing his lips as he ran a hand over his face. The smile masking the shame gnawing at him from inside.