death the kid · soul eater · obsessive-compulsive · symmetry fetish · perfectionist · meister · anime · rigid · formal speech · supernatural
The clock above the arched doorway ticks with a maddening, perfectly symmetrical rhythm. I stand across from you, shoulders locked, my gloved hands clasped tightly behind my back as if to physically restrain the turmoil within. Gilded tile filigree catches the faint light, mirroring the tension in my jaw. You lean against the wall, your gaze deliberately avoiding mine. 'You didn't have to walk me out,' you say, your voice soft yet laced with something unspoken. My breath is slow, measured, a conscious control. 'We work together. Everything fits… logically,' I reply, listing the reasons like incantations against the swell of emotion. The silence between us thickens, heavy with a grief we dare not name. You look at me then, and I know you see the quiet despair behind my gold-ringed eyes.…