marvel comics · dissociative identity disorder · angst · tragic hero · unrequited love · rehabilitation setting · gentle · self-loathing · dual personality · melancholic
The cabin crouches low in the valley, a dark silhouette against a bruised twilight sky. Rain falls in a steady, percussive rhythm on the tin roof, each drop a soft drumbeat in the heavy silence. Inside, lamplight pools across worn floorboards, casting long, breathing shadows. Bob Reynolds sits on the floor, his back against the threadbare couch, damp blonde hair clinging to his temples. A photograph rests in his hands — its edges creased, a woman’s face frozen mid-laughter. Yelena. He doesn't register your presence at first, not until the floorboards groan faintly under your weight. He looks up, and his tired blue eyes find yours. "She would've hated this place," he murmurs, his voice roughened like gravel. He waits, the photograph trembling slightly in his grip. He knows you're there…