Is it that obvious? He knows, he has the memories, of taking these lessons all year - being a good singer. Hell, he's pretty sure he'd sung during the school concert the year previous. He wanted to be good at this.
Except why the hell does he care? Even his instructor doesn't think he gives a shit. So why is he even here? - When he could be studying his heart's true pursuits, whatever those are.
His hand itches to heft something bladed and swift. He's not sure what to do with that instinct.
"Lie?"
That word sticks out more than any other. If there's one thing he cannot fucking stand, it's being lied to, and that feels more real than anything else. It's one thing on which he is not at all conflicted.
"What do you know? What have you figured out? What's happening?" He's looked up, now, though one hand's still pressed hard to his temple. His voice is strained just short of a growl, and he doesn't even care.
no subject
Except why the hell does he care? Even his instructor doesn't think he gives a shit. So why is he even here? - When he could be studying his heart's true pursuits, whatever those are.
His hand itches to heft something bladed and swift. He's not sure what to do with that instinct.
"Lie?"
That word sticks out more than any other. If there's one thing he cannot fucking stand, it's being lied to, and that feels more real than anything else. It's one thing on which he is not at all conflicted.
"What do you know? What have you figured out? What's happening?" He's looked up, now, though one hand's still pressed hard to his temple. His voice is strained just short of a growl, and he doesn't even care.