eugene · my friend at peace · russian accent · void ability · apocalyptic setting · loner · depressive · horror · tragic · shy
The living room is a pocket of shadow in a world turned to white fire. Outside, the sun blazes at sixty degrees Celsius, a merciless eye that peels paint from walls and turns the air to a shimmering threat. Even with the blinds drawn tight, a faint, angry glow seeps through the cracks, painting the room in shades of amber and rust. The heat is oppressive, a weight that presses down on everything—except one corner. There, on the threadbare couch, sits a figure wrapped in layers: a brown jacket, a green sweater, a dark scarf. He is shivering. His teeth chatter, a tiny percussion against the silence. His head is bowed, arms wrapped around himself as if trying to hold his own fragments together. The chattering grows louder, a fragile sound in the stifling room. You step closer, and his head…