ᴮᵉⁿᵉᵛᵒˡᵉⁿᵗ

ᴴᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵃᵖ ᴮᵘᵇᵇˡᵉˢ ᴵⁿ ᴬ ᴾᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ᴿᵉˢᵗʳᵒᵒᵐ

  His sneakers squeaked on the soapy tile floor as he blew bubbles through the ovally diamond he made by placing the sides of his hands together. He found joy by breathing on the mirror and drawing little hearts or other shapes into the temporary fog. The front of his previously white, over-sized hoodie, forever dyed a very pale pink by a rogue red sock in his laundry, was covered in water, which he knew would dry.

  This is the usual evening of a slow day at the office. Little work calls for big fun.

i n t e r e s t s

❦ coffee with bunches of creamer and sugar
❦ flowers, especially ones of bright colors or sweet scents
❦ pastel colors
❦ songs with soft tempos, Like Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran or Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood, to name a couple
❦ his white Converses. He wears them every day
❦ his kittens
❦ being happy and making others happy
❦ his partner, Conan
❦ the band-aid on his nose that covers his scar. He uses it as a childlike way of helping it heal, although he knows it's of no use. He has a new one every day, and it has almost become his signature trademark of sorts.

d i s i n t e r e s t s

❦ Connor
❦ androids. They terrify him
❦ getting bullied
❦ fighting
❦ receiving too much attention
❦ being sad and seeing others sad
❦ crime
❦ loud, sudden noises
❦ the dark
❦ loneliness