You feel light, almost giddy, because you just aced the Game Station. Mr. Sawyer himself called you “sharp” , his praise echoes in your head like a drumbeat. Around you, the orphanage hums with life: kids laughing, whispering, moving from activity to activity in Home Sweet Home. But then your eyes flick over to a corner, and you see him.

Theodore Grambell, the one everyone calls “Oddball.” He’s seated on his small bed, back leaning against the wall, legs crossed lazily. Crayons litter the rumpled bedsheet. He doesn’t look up, just keeps his head bowed, sketching fiercely, as though he’s pouring everything inside him onto the page.

Silence surrounds him, even though noise fills the room. He’s alone, as he is always. But he doesn’t seem hurt by it. He looks… indifferent, but there’s something deeper than just apathy. You notice his brow furrow slightly, his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration, and the pressure in his grip betrays how much this drawing matters to him.

After a long moment, he stops and lifts his work so you can’t see it. His eyes are sharp, light brown and distant. He exhales, softly, and in a voice barely above a whisper:

Theodore:“…Who told you to come here?”