#evanescentmind

✄ —-✘Then there was that dreadfully awkward silence that the other male didn't seem to be picking up on because he was still standing there. Ozwyn repeatedly told himself not to look in his head. If he looked then he had that bad feeling that he was going to give the stranger the wrong idea. Damn, did it reek of alcohol. It was as if the other had stepped straight out of a bar, wasn't it a bit early to be getting so drunk? Ozwyn figured it was the new year so it made sense as to why anyone was wasted at this hour but he never thought he would cross a drunkard in a library.

Ozwyn slumped further into his seat, one hand unconsciously moved up to gently tug on the tuft of hair that hung between his eyes. A habit of his when he trying to shield his burning face from the world around him. Then as if it wasn't already bad, he mindlessly glanced at Harley to see him still standing there and to make matters worse, he was shamelessly staring. Ozwyn's gaze shifted forward again, this time locking his vision onto the book like glue despite not being able to read a single word on the page. Was the other one an albino? His skin was so pale, a pasty almost ghostly pale color. One might even think he were a vampire if vampires existed, which they didn't that would be absurd. Yet his hair was snow white and he hadn't seen anything like it before. He had yet to get a good look at the male's eyes but now he was growing curious. If it weren't for this awkward conversation, he probably would have been shooting off with questions but now he didn't want to say a word.

He practically yelped at surprise when the table shook. Before him the male had plunked down to sit with his head against the table. “Woah, hey,” he wasn't certain how to approach the other but that actually looked like it hurt. It was then Ozwyn even realized he had spaced out and that the male had been speaking in a panicked manner to him this whole time until now. “Wait what--?!” His mind registered everything he said a bit too slow. “I'm eighte--” he cut himself short when he realized he shouldn't say that after Harley was just talking about blow-jobs and damnit, now the heat was returning to his face again.

Getting his mind off of this was going to be far more difficult than he thought and now the drunken man wasn't seeming to budge. And then he had to go and say it. Say he was a prostitute. Ozwyn seemingly froze up as he listened to the other male, his eyes now on the stranger's head of white locks. After a moment, his gaze traveled back down to the book and a heavy sigh left him. The talk seemingly drained Ozwyn or brought up something he'd much rather not think about. Whatever it was, he folded his book back up and tucked it into his backpack that was slung on the backside of the chair. Slipping a strap over one of his shoulders, he stood up and moved around the table to the other male's side.