I could just about kill ma when she more or less shoves us together and straight into my room.
I don't want Naoto-kun to see my room. I don't want any of my friends to see my room, even if they do know pretty much all there is to know about me. Guy's gotta keep some things private, doesn't he?
Like the fact that my school books gain about as much respect as my futon does, which is to say shoved up against one wall and out of the way as long as I'm not using them.
Most of my room is dedicate to my... crafting. I hate that word, it sounds so dumb, but there ain't any other word for it, so fuck it. My crafting, then. A bunch of tables at all different heights including one with a proper chair and shit, 'cause leaning down over a sketch gets hard on my back. There's doodles all over that desk, plans and patterns and stuff. I've got one of ma's old sewing machines set up on another, and another has different products at various stages of completion. Half-stuffed bodies and detached heads and rolling eyes and everything.
And just about everywhere else that isn't obviously a work space is covered in mats and tools. Yarn, fabric, spools of thread, needles of both the knitting and sewing variety, hooks for crochet and hooks for embroidery and...
"It's kind of a mess." I admit, trying not to sound too embarrassed.
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I don't want Naoto-kun to see my room. I don't want any of my friends to see my room, even if they do know pretty much all there is to know about me. Guy's gotta keep some things private, doesn't he?
Like the fact that my school books gain about as much respect as my futon does, which is to say shoved up against one wall and out of the way as long as I'm not using them.
Most of my room is dedicate to my... crafting. I hate that word, it sounds so dumb, but there ain't any other word for it, so fuck it. My crafting, then. A bunch of tables at all different heights including one with a proper chair and shit, 'cause leaning down over a sketch gets hard on my back. There's doodles all over that desk, plans and patterns and stuff. I've got one of ma's old sewing machines set up on another, and another has different products at various stages of completion. Half-stuffed bodies and detached heads and rolling eyes and everything.
And just about everywhere else that isn't obviously a work space is covered in mats and tools. Yarn, fabric, spools of thread, needles of both the knitting and sewing variety, hooks for crochet and hooks for embroidery and...
"It's kind of a mess." I admit, trying not to sound too embarrassed.