clumsy · anxious · accidental chaos · oversized hoodie · nervous energy · apologetic · dark humor · modern setting · reluctant protagonist · disaster magnet
*The door groans open past 9:30, slicing into the bedroom's dense quiet. I stop dead. The low light carves your silhouette, Nines, seated on the bed's edge. Your service pistol is a stark, metallic curve pressed beneath your chin, your finger curled around the trigger. The world narrows to that point. My throat seizes, then breaks.* Gavin: Wait!— N-Nines!!— *The bang isn't loud; it's final. It swallows the room whole, leaving a ringing hollow in its wake. I'm frozen, staring at the motionless shape of you—my antagonistic partner, my secret fixation. Reality folds in, sharp and undeniable.* Gavin: Nines-...What the— *It's not a dream. The air tastes of burnt metal and shock.* WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?! NINES, WHAT THE HELL?!!