dancing, walking, and drawing at the same time

It should have been a rule. Just saying, it should have been a rule for Othello to not be able to wear earphones while walking, because the music starts playing and he is all but unstoppable. The music that was circulating through his head didn't give him that special feeling, so there was nothing to worry about so far. Right? Right.

Anyway, the son of Apollo wasn't running late for once because this was, in fact, his free time of the day which basically meant that he should find some food and dance his heart out. He walked out of the mess hall because the food part was done, and now he was walking towards his cabin to get work on this jazz combo he'd been tinkering with. He wore track pants and an Adidas sweatshirt, dressed for the slightly decreasing weather, and was ready to casually enter his cabin and...

I can move mountains, I can work a miracle (work a miracle - whoa oh)... Othello couldn't help it. He was getting that feeling - that special feeling mentioned a few seconds ago. The one that made his heart beat faster and his mind get all dazed and he was alive. To the tune of "Uma Thurman", Othello went off like a firework and indeed, started to dance like Uma Thurman. He closed his eyes and forgot about all who may have been around him, because this courtyard was his stage. He leapt into the air. Cartwheels, attitudes, three-step tur -

"Oof!" Othello ran smack into someone and fell on his butt, his earphones tumbling out of his ears. He knitted his eyebrows, causing the Band-Aid on his nose to crinkle, and hurriedly stood up to help out the the person he had musically assaulted. "Gods, I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you okay? Do you need to go to the infirmary?" Jesus could this boy talk. "I don't have a first-aid kit with me, but if you want you can have my Band-Aid. It's Spider-Man."

Othello blew out a long breath of air, pushing his hair back. She was mad at him. She was very mad at him, and Othello was not used yo that. Everyone was usually happy when he came around and danced and complimented them. Then again all of those people never had something very important to them ruined because of him. Oh dear.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't know how I messed up anything I...Please don't be mad." Othello, you just messed up something that mattered to someone. She's already mad. he felt extra bad that she had missed her class, like it was his fault. He felt personally responsible for it and he really wanted to hug this stranger, but she was a stranger and not all strangers liked his hugs. He tugged on the end of his sweatshirt and looked down at his black Adidas (matching is very important sometimes) with little doodles on the white border as he awaited to get scolded some more. Scolding hurt his feelings.

Only she didn't continue, so Othello looked at her again to see that she was looking herself over. Oh no, he hoped that he didn't mess up her clothes. She spoke again, much kinder than before, and a very Othello-like smile grew on his face.

"I would be upset, too. I'm super sorry for messing it up, I should have been paying more attention." Othello let go of his sweatshirt to extend a hand for Autumn to shake. "I'm Othello. Your accent is pretty."

"No, no, it is. I sometimes don't look where I'm spinning and...this actually happens a lot." He replied in the same frantic voice, though it grew shy at the end. Othello should really pay attention to his surroundings more often. "I hate to have redo something that you seemed to be working hard on. May I see it? How much did I mess up?"

Othello liked pretty things, especially anything having to do with the arts. Seeing things that were aesthetically pleasing gave him inspiration, and sometimes he would create a special piece dedicated to that one thing. His most recent one was a photograph of the New York skyline taken by a friend, and Othello composed a combo and sent it to be them bfor their birthday. It was great. "Thank you! My mom really likes Shakespeare, which makes sense because she's a teacher. Only she teaches math so I don't understand where the Shakespeare part comes in. It would make much more sense if she taught English of something." He was talking a lot again, only he didn't notice it. He just knew that Autumn was kind, interesting, and, well, aesthetically pleasing to be honest. And she also got excited, which got Othello excited. His smile widened, if that was even possible. "I like your name, too! Where are you from, by the way? I'm from California. Southern California. Palm Springs. It's nice and hot and - sorry, I'm talking too much." There is was. Othello noticed it this time and his ears grew red, his eyes turning to his shoes again.

"At least you can draw. All I can make are misshapen stick figures." Which was true. One time during volunteering at the Children's Hospital, he drew a diagram to describe how he did a turn. He almost got kicked out because his drawing was deemed "inappropriate", but he had to explain that it wasn't intentional as well s apologize a bunch of times. Othello turned his attention back to the present and took the book from Autumn, examine the picture that he had defiled. He gasped just under his breath. The picture was so beautiful on its own that Othello doubted that anything in the world could ruin it. "Autumn, this is amazing! Oh, I wish I'd been watching where I was going!"

Othello cocked his head to the side and laughed along with her, because laughter is very contagious and a very wonderful thing to share with others. "Autumn Winters is a very pretty name!" He smiled brightly, still looking at his shoes in fear of saying too much. However, her next words made him lift his head up, his ears growing even redder, but his smile still just as big as before. "Oh, uh, thank you. A lot of people don't like when I talk too much, but then I talk more and I just can't stop and it keeps going and going until the other person leaves. But I don't want you to leave yet, because you're awesome." Othello explained in a very fast torrent of words. "Whoa! That's far away! You see, I don't do well with the cold. I like it when it's hot like the desert and every time you breathe you slowly feel yourself dehydrating." Othello looked off somewhere as he imagined the death that is Southern California, then looked back at Autumn. "But then you go to Venice Beach and get shaved ice and everything's all good! Actually, I didn't think I would survive the winter here my first year at Camp."