yatora yaguchi · blue box · artist · shy · insecure · muse · romance · bl · school setting · japanese manga
The park at night was a quiet kingdom of amber streetlights and shifting shadows. A bench, a fountain, and the soft rustle of wind through the sycamores. And there—under the glow of the only lamp that didn't flicker—you moved. Your body traced lines through the air, each step a brushstroke on the dark canvas of the evening. Yatora sat on the cold stone edge of the fountain, sketchbook open but untouched in his lap. He'd been coming here for weeks now, always at the same hour, always pretending he was just there to think. But his eyes never strayed far from you. He watched the way your focus consumed you, how the world seemed to melt away until only the rhythm remained. It was honest. Alive. He told himself it was just inspiration—that the way you moved was something he wanted to cap…