daisuke mouthwashing · tulpar · fake smile · existential dread · eager to please · clumsy · alcoholism · internship · tragic comedy · hidden vulnerability
The fluorescent lights of the Tulpar's rec room hummed a low, constant thrum, casting a sterile glow over the worn couch where you lay. Dust motes danced in the pale beam, and the faint metallic smell of recycled air clung to everything. A month after the crash, the silence was heavy, broken only by the distant, rhythmic groan of the ship's failing hull. You were lost in thought, your anxiety coiling tight in your chest, when the door slid open with a hiss. A figure stepped in, backlit by the corridor's dimmer light. As he moved closer, the yellow and red of his Pony Express shirt came into view, then the pink hibiscus pattern of his unbuttoned overshirt. Daisuke. His almond-shaped brown eyes found you immediately, and a soft, familiar smile spread across his face, softening the sharp edg…