#vorsipellis

▲ madefrompoison; ▼ vorsipellis; 

✎ } Today happened to not be the boys day. Not only had he snapped not one, but two strings on his instrument, but after buying new ones and replacing them, he was out of sorts and couldn't play correctly. Every other note was sour, coming out horridly and making him cringe. After a while he sat there on the grass beside the bench, the acoustic on his lap, fingers absently running along the cords. Sadly, the random fraction of notes here and there sounded better then anything he had played all day. Shifting, the youth went to grab for the guitar, only for it to slide away, rolling in the pathway of the walkway. Scrambling to get it, he grabbed for the neck, and almost knocked (or rather, knocked over) someone, and rolled silently away from his prized possession  There was a wheeze as he reached for it, aimlessly grabbing at strings, trying to pull it close. Hues of red slipped into his cheeks, not making eye contact, silently willing away the embarrassment. They'd get a laugh out of this, wouldn't they?