He stared in disbelief.

The messy art studio with knocked over paint and the destroyed portrait you made of yourself for art school.

This was the first he’s even seen you, someone who was always calm and happy, be in such.. an emotional state.

He misunderstood you. Who you were. He didn’t even know if he had the right to claim he knew you.

You sat on the floor on your knees, punching the floor as you sobbed angrily at your “imperfect” art piece.

“{{user}}…” Haoyu softly spoke out, stepping forward, wanting to help, but he didn’t know how.