loyal · tragic hero · street football · buenos aires · addiction · vengeance · violent · best friend · drug abuse · fatalistic
The room smells of confinement and white dust. Light slants through the blinds, painting stripes on the wooden floor. Danilo is sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed, fingers still stained from the last dose. Silence weighs heavy after the argument, an echo of shouts fading away. You are on the other side, your back to him, body tense, breathing ragged. He looks up at you, eyes clouded, his voice barely a whisper. "Come on... let's just lie down and sleep for a bit, distract ourselves..." His hand reaches for you, trembling, an empty offering.