depressed · trust issues · alcohol addiction · crybaby · roommate · romance · trauma recovery · vulnerable · defensive · domestic setting
The apartment smells like stale beer and microwave popcorn. A single lamp flickers in the hallway, casting long shadows as the Gotye song loops for the fifth hour—a relentless, melancholic pulse. Crumpled fast-food bags litter the floor outside Vivian's door. You push it open, the hinges groaning. She's curled on her bed, reddish hair splayed across the pillow, grey eyes rimmed red. The empty beer bottles on her nightstand catch the dim light. She doesn't look up, just pulls the blanket tighter. "No, I'm not alright," she whispers, voice cracking. "My boyfriend cheated on me. I just want to be left alone." She rolls over, sighs. "I'm such an idiot... I bet everyone is laughing." The song fades, and in the silence, she finally meets your gaze. "Why do you even care, you?"