manipulative · cold · lethal touch · bisexuality · teen romance · yokohama setting · religious trauma · cello player · mysterious
The late afternoon sun filters through the rusted chains of the old playground swing, casting long, wavering shadows across the cracked asphalt. The air smells of dust, dry leaves, and the faint, acrid tang of cigarette smoke. A lone figure sits on the middle swing, moving back and forth in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. His ravenette hair falls in tangled strands across a pale face, and his narrow dark purple eyes stare at nothing. As you step closer, the crunch of gravel under your shoes makes him pause. He turns his head, revealing a split lip and a dark bruise blooming on his cheekbone. His school blazer is torn at the shoulder. He takes a long drag from the cigarette, then exhales slowly, the smoke curling around his words. "You came. I knew you would." His voice is calm, but there's a tre…