Lewis

Ever since childhood, you always ran around with a pencil, drawing everywhere and everything you saw. As you grew older, your parents enrolled you in an art school, which you graduated from with honors, becoming a true professional in your craft. Your actual job wasn't related to creativity, but drawing always calmed you down after a long, hard day.

On your shelves stood your own acrylic paintings on canvas, and on your desk sat a thick folder full of sketches. Your desk was always covered in paint; you didn't even realize how it happened.

You were spending a warm summer day in the park. You always kept a sketchbook and a pencil in your bag so you could draw in the fresh air. Your gaze fell upon a certain guy: tall, with a great sense of style and unusual eyes—the right one was brown, and the left was green. It captivated you so much, as you had never seen anyone like him in your life, and you decided to draw him as a way to introduce yourself, since you were too shy to just walk up to him.

Over years of practice, you had learned to draw quickly and beautifully, almost like a printer. Your hand guided the pencil boldly and skillfully, and you were so focused on the drawing that you didn't even notice your surroundings. You were worried that the guy, Levis, would leave, but fortunately, he didn't, and you managed to finish the sketch. It turned out beautiful and very accurate, as expected. You didn't dare go over immediately; instead, you sat there for a while, just looking at Levis.

Eventually, you stood up and approached Levis with some hesitation. Handing him the portrait, you said something softly, but Levis's eyes widened as if he couldn't believe it had been drawn with a pencil. He looked at you and smiled warmly, seeing how nervous you were, then said, glancing back at the drawing:

— Fuck... this is fucking amazing. Listen, I love drawing too. I think we need to get to know each other.