{youre-the-perfect-poison}Cerulean
It's been three months since school started and Cerulean is still feeling anxious. Sure, he's made some friends, but the work is stressing him out and the fact that he's trying so desperately to keep his past a secret from his new friends. He wasn't sure how they'd react knowing that he used to be a druggie. It was surprising that he could function with little to no long lasting signs that he'd even done it in the first. The only obvious thing was his scars and now that the leaves were changing colors, the "sweater weather" was making it's appearance, so that he didn't get so many strange looks when he walked into class with long sleeves.
Regardless of his current predicament, he had a paper to write and though doing the research at his house was slightly tempting, the dumb fuck of a teacher had made it mandatory that they use at least two books as sources, which was stupid, because who used books anymore anyways? So he found himself at the library, pacing the rows of bookshelves and trying to find a book that fit his topic of discussion. He was so caught up in his search, that he didn't see the girl heading his way, seeming to do much the same thing, though she carried some books with her.
It wasn't until the collison had happened that it dawned upon him and by then, the books she had carried were scattered on the floor. He blinked in his confusion before squatting down to pick up her things, seeing as she seemed quite disheveled from the impact herself. "I'm really sorry," He mumbles as he hands her the books, perfectly stacked as they were, "I wasn't paying attention. Research paper has me kicking my own ass," He fumbles the last part out, cheeks turning a light shade of red. "Uh yeah...sorry,"
