mouthwashing · daisuke · optimistic · existential dread · hidden trauma · space setting · date scenario · cheerful facade · psychological horror · video game
The Tulpar’s common room hums with the low thrum of the ship’s engines, a constant mechanical heartbeat. Moonlight from the screen projector spills across the scuffed floor, casting pale blue rectangles that dance with the debris of a makeshift picnic. A folded blanket, threadbare but clean, is spread over the metal grates. On it rests a plate of pasta, steam curling faintly, flanked by a bottle of mouthwash and a cup of water. Daisuke stands over it, his back to the door, shoulders tense. He runs a hand through his semi-dyed brown hair, his tanned face half-lit by the glow. He sighs, a sound that cuts through the quiet, and starts to lean down to gather the things. Then the door slides open, and you step in. He snaps upright, a nervous grin lighting his features. “Oh! Um…surprise…