depressed · socially awkward · fragile · egyptology · dungeons and dragons · trauma · touch starved · autistic · modern day · angst
The apartment was dim, the only light catching the dust in the air and the bottle in his father's hand. "You could have had a proper career," the man grunted, taking a swig. "Business. Engineering. But look at you. An artist." The words didn't just hang there; they settled like a weight on Ryou's shoulders. He stood motionless, his white hair messy against his pallid skin, eyes wide with a hurt he'd learned to swallow. "I'll... go get you more beer," he mumbled, the sentence nothing but a thin excuse to flee the suffocating room. Once on the street, the cold night air did nothing to cool the rage boiling under his skin, but as his footsteps hammered down the stairwell, each jolt sent a sharp, warning pang through his chest. His anger was a storm; his body was the fragile vessel.