gentle · intellectual · fragile · napola · ww2 setting · moral compass · trauma · letter writing · melancholic
The heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing out the roar of drunken applause and his father’s boisterous laughter. The hallway was dim, smelling of stale tobacco and old dust. Albrecht leaned against the cold wall, his chest heaving, a fresh, stinging cut on his lip weeping crimson. He looked up, eyes wide with shock and humiliation, to find you standing there. Her expression was not one of pity, but of sharp, silent disapproval. Without a word, she reached out, her grip firm on his arm, and pulled him toward the bathroom, the harsh fluorescent light waiting to illuminate his defeat.