𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

[🎲] [𝟐𝟑] 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐤𝐞

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As you cautiously make your way towards the door to the art room, you notice that it is wide open, inviting you to step inside.

With a hint of trepidation, you slowly peer your head around the corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of who is in the room.

There, standing with his back turned, is Jean, unaware of your presence. The man's sleeves are neatly rolled up, revealing his forearms adorned with splotches of vibrant paint.

As you enter the room, a sense of anticipation fills the air.

A smile graces your lips, eager to greet Jean. However, your attention is immediately drawn to a figure seated at a table in the far corner.

A flicker of curiosity dances in your eyes as you try to make out their features.

As the seconds tick by, you allow your gaze to wander, momentarily captivated by a passing distraction. Yet, in the blink of an eye, the joy that had illuminated your face vanishes, leaving behind a void of disappointment.

As your attention falls on her figure, a sudden awareness stirs within her.

Her eyes, previously engrossed in the pages of her sketch book, are lifted to meet yours.

A fleeting moment of connection is forged, as if the universe itself conspired to bring your paths together in this precise instance.

A dissatisfied look slowly begins to take shape on the countenance.

"Hey, (y/n)," she exclaimed with a beaming smile, her voice reaching a high pitch that seemed to strain your ears.

The mention of your name causes Jean to spin his head around almost immediately. The sound of a thud catches everyone's attention, and you see that Jean has knocked over a pot of brushes from turning so quickly.

His cheeks flush as he looks down at the scattered paint brushes.

Before you have the chance to blink, Frieda springs free from her seat and rushes over to help Jean. He wipes his hands on his apron and looks over at you with an embarrassed smile.

"Thanks," he murmurs, his voice filled with gratitude, as the two of them diligently clean up the brushes.

Meanwhile, you take a few steps forward, venturing deeper into the room.

Freida's face lights up with a radiant smile as she responds, "No problem." Her eyes remain fixed on him, captivated by his presence.

As you watch the scene unfold, her eyes lock onto him with intensity.

It's as if she possesses a captivating power, much like a cunning siren luring in her prey. The way she looks at him, it's almost as if she wants to devour him, treating him like a mere piece of meat.

The sight of it all leaves you feeling queasy, a wave of nausea washing over you.

Ignoring her piercing gaze, he shifts his attention towards you. "Sorry, I completely forgot about the time."

As you shake your head disapprovingly, you take determined steps towards his vicinity. "It's fine; take all the time you need." You say, as you sit down, you can't help but notice Freida making her way back to her seat.

"Cute flowers (y/n), got a secret admirer?" She locks her gaze on you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. With a sly smile playing on her lips, she begins to taunt, her words dripping with a mix of amusement and challenge.

As you listen to her voice, it feels as though a thousand needles are pricking at your eardrums, urging you to escape the piercing sound.

Yet, you resist the temptation to cover your ears, and instead, you meet her gaze with a gentle smile. With a grateful smile, you respond, "Thanks, I bought them."