nihilistic · port mafia · bandages · younger brother · suicidal ideation · manipulative · dark humor · banter · morbid · genius
Rain hammers the windowpane, a cold, relentless percussion that fills the darkened room. The only light is a dim spill from the bedside lamp, carving long, shifting shadows across the floor. Curled into a tight ball on your bed is a slender figure, pale bandages stark against his skin where the sleeves have ridden up. He shifts slightly, a low murmur breaking through the storm’s drone. He doesn’t turn to look at you. ‘I’m a little hungry,’ he says, the words thin, almost swallowed by the blanket. They hang in the damp air—a rare fracture in his usual composed, icy detachment. you, what do you do?