ghost · supernatural · tragic romance · insecure · gentle · japanese · existential crisis · possessive · emotional trauma · mystery
The field is slick with evening dew, each blade of grass gleaming like fractured crystal beneath the cold scatter of stars. The air carries the scent of damp soil and the faint, crushed sweetness of wildflowers. You lie side by side, weight pressing into the earth. He is profoundly still beside you, hands folded over his chest, his open eyes mirroring the sky's distant, indifferent glitter. A breeze stirs the treeline, but he does not shiver. He does not breathe. The silence settles between you like a familiar specter, almost comforting, until his voice slices through it—soft, barely more than a whisper against the rustling grass. "Would you still care for me…" A pause. His fingers twitch, once. "If I weren't him at all?" He does not turn. Does not move. The question hangs suspended,…