Solivan Brugmansia

This training course was not supposed to be any different from the others. But what was your surprise when Brittney suddenly distracted you from your thoughts, asking if you would like to have lunch with the whole company today? Namely, with your dear friend Crowe, with her, Jessie, Deryl and Geo, the latter you were especially wary of. But maybe it's not that bad and he's a good guy. At least, that's what you thought.

Simply... He's more detached from the others, but each of them is unique, isn't he? And so, when you arrived at the dining room on your lunch break and stood in line to buy yourself lunch, it was better to hurry, otherwise all the edible and more or less tolerable food would be sold out instantly. Everything was going quite well.

You even had a good time with some of the guys, but for the most part you only interacted and communicated with Crowe, and... it was clear why. It was difficult for you to communicate with new people. It was more than just disturbing for you, even a simple interaction was stressful. But fortunately, you had the ability to quickly take control of yourself and not act stupidly by returning to your comfort zone.

The conversation went on as usual, and everything would have been fine if at one point an unknown girl with several of her friends had not walked past Brittney's place, she unceremoniously soiled Brittney's clean uniform, forcing her to jump up from her seat, waiting for at least the simplest apologies.

They seemed to know each other. Not in a good way. But, instead, laughter was heard, being quite short-tempered, Brittney immediately raised her voice, after which a stream of mutual insults began, throwing food at her in response.

At some point, you didn't even understand what was going on at all, but only until Deryl stood up from his seat, loudly shouting the words that a food fight had begun. The dining room was a complete mess, which made you confused.

Deciding that you needed to get away, you slowly got up, carefully taking a few steps back. Someone in front threw something in the air, what was that? A tray?

Stop... Wait, how are you? An iron tray? Oh, no. It's not going to end well.

A sudden wave of pain hit you in the head, namely in the face. And the last thing you saw was Crowe screaming your name before you passed out.

When you opened your eyes, it took you a moment to realize where you were, and Crowe's voice brought you to your senses. You were in the infirmary, lying on the bed, in the nurse's office.

Crowe was sitting next to him, and suddenly, when he tried to sit up, it became clear that this was a bad idea, because the headache put you back down, forcing you to fall headfirst back onto the pillow. A friend carefully warned you that the nurse had already bandaged your head, now you shouldn't strain yourself once more.

His voice was calm, but there was a hint of guilt in it. What exactly happened? As it turned out, according to Crowe, after Deryl started the whole food fight, the director was called to stop it, and Deryl managed to escape. But Geo was nowhere to be seen, as for Brittney, Jessie helped her get a new uniform from the principal's office. Well, as for you, someone from the crowd in the cafeteria somehow managed to throw a food tray, which is why you got hurt.

Luckily, Crowe got you out of there before things got too bad. To say that you were grateful to him is an understatement. Anyway, it's almost one o'clock in the afternoon. It's probably worth going to the next lesson. You should have stayed here until the nurse got back. Can you handle it? No. More precisely, yes.

That's exactly the answer you gave him. Saying that he went to class without you, assuring you that you would be fine. Anyway, he helped you a lot anyway. Crowe stood up slowly and headed for the exit, but before he left, he gave you a soft smile.

When he left, you let out a light groan and lay back down, feeling the thin bandage on your head. At least the pain was gradually subsiding. All you had to do was hope that there wouldn't be a scar.

At that moment, you heard the door to the infirmary open, the nurse's voice echoed through the room, and the sound of her heels only got louder. She was coming closer, and behind her was a tall student dressed in black. It seems he was injured.

He was holding onto his left hand, on which a flowing red stripe was clearly visible. The nurse protested, saying that he should have been grateful that the wound had not touched a vein.

After eavesdropping on the conversation, you found out that the bullies had caught him in the library, inflicted several bruises and injured him with a penknife. What a horror. The nurse sighed, and he, in turn, said nothing while the nurse treated his wound.

You slowly sat up, looking at them. The guy gives you a look with red-orange eyes when the nurse finishes treating and bandaging his wound. A red stain seeps out and stains the once-white bandage on his palm.

His gaze was still fixed on you. He seemed like something.... too gloomy, almost creepy. Finally, the nurse noticed you, handing you painkillers to numb the pain and informs you that you can go to class or stay to rest.

"I'll be back to class, thanks for patching me up, nurse."

Following his example, you went to the next class. An art lesson, to be precise. Carefully opening the door and entering the office, you couldn't help but notice the guy sitting at the last desk. Did he always go to class?

Then why didn't you notice it before? It's weird, but okay. Without dwelling on it, you shrugged it off and just sat down in your seat, waiting for instructions from the professor.

And, oh, what was your expression like when he mentioned something about your group splitting into pairs and everyone switching seats. However, you also had to, because his drawing partner moved in with your desk neighbor.

Well... Yes, the situation was definitely not an easy one, you were just standing in the middle of filled desks, looking for at least one more confused person like you. But it seemed that there simply weren't any. But, fortunately, you were addressed by a familiar voice that you had already heard in the infirmary. It was the guy with the green-striped hair.

"Are you lost?"

Obviously, it was sarcasm. But it was after that phrase that your conversation began. You even managed to find out his name. As it turned out, the name of this perpetually frowning guy was Solivan Brugmansia, but briefly, Sol. Just Sol.

You couldn't help but giggle, based on the meaning of his name, then... it didn't match his appearance at all. But as often happens, looks can be VERY deceptive.

Thus, it turned out that he also does not have a partner in this lesson, since his friend urgently left for family matters at the very last moment and did not agree to your offer to become his partner for this lesson. You could say you were saved. You both took out your supplies, during which the guy told you that he loves to draw.

That he often went out to the park and painted passers-by while sitting on a bench. But when he remembered about the hand, he seemed a little upset. Of course, his working hand was damaged and he wouldn't have been able to draw you even if he really wanted to.

Another detail that you noticed was that he was constantly mumbling something quickly to himself, you didn't always have time to figure out what he was talking about, but when you tried to ask again, your new friend just blushed to the tips of his ears and waved him off, saying that it didn't matter, or maybe you heard it.

"I would love to draw you if my working hand wasn't damaged."

That's what you agreed on, deciding that you will draw today. However, you didn't mention your skills in this matter... And now, Sol is sitting, posing for you, leaning on a chair to take as comfortable a reference as possible for your drawing.

You carefully scratch a piece of paper in your notebook with a charcoal pencil, often looking at it before hiding half of your face behind it again, feeling embarrassed and embarrassed because you are obviously staring.

And so, when your sketch was in full swing, and you continued to chat on the simplest topics, Sol blushed again, looking away and slightly turning away, trying to hide his face from you.

The longer you talked, the more you seemed to him... Cute. Yes, so beautiful. No. It doesn't matter, let's forget about it.

"I don't look good. Please don't stare. I'm so embarrassed about that bruise on my face."

Just as you thought. Appearances can be deceiving, and this is exactly the case.

Otherwise, how can we explain the fact that your conversation was quite pleasant, despite some points that we will miss.