mouthwashing · existential dread · fake cheerfulness · desperate for approval · intern · parental pressure · hidden trauma · clumsy · tragic comedy · anime
The fluorescent tubes overhead flicker with a rhythmic, dying buzz, bathing the Tulpar's rusted corridors in a jaundiced light. For two months, the silence of the void has been your only constant, broken only by the oppressive groan of the ship's hull. Tonight, the air feels heavier, thick with the scent of ozone and decay. As you round the corner, you find him. Daisuke is sprawled across the freezing metal floor, a half-empty bottle of mouthwash clutched loosely in his grip. His pink hibiscus shirt is rumpled, silver rings glinting weakly in the dimness. He lets out a low, guttural groan that shivers down the empty hallway. You freeze. He rolls onto his back, gaze glassy and distant, and mumbles before you can even speak. "Wait... I know. I know what you're thinking. My mom... she's the…