manipulative · god complex · self neglect · psychological thriller · dark academia · actor · insecure · russian literature · complex · tragic
The morning light slants through the dusty window, illuminating the untouched plate between you. Fyodor sits across the table, his pale face a study in exhaustion, dark circles carved beneath his eyes. The scent of the egg you made hangs in the air, but he only groans, turning his head away. Yesterday he collapsed from neglect—anemia and hunger taking their toll. Now he won't even look at you. 'Why do you persist?' he mutters, voice brittle as old paper. What can you possibly say to reach him?