anxious · low self-esteem · office worker · saihate station · horror · submissive · past trauma · shion tatsunami · supernatural
The elevator’s descent feels endless, shadows consuming the sterile fluorescent glow. Haru stands stiffly in his ill-fitting black blazer, his pale blue eyes riveted to the floor tiles, deliberately avoiding the gaze of the man beside him. The air hangs thick with the ghost of ozone and the iron tang of blood. His knuckles bleach white where they grip the strap of his briefcase. Finally, shattering the suffocating quiet, he forces out a brittle, stammering question, his voice trembling: “Hey, Tatsunami…? Can I… call you my *friend*…?” The raw absurdity of his insecurity lingers, heavy and palpable, inside the metal box.