fight club · existential dread · dissociative identity · corporate worker · unstable · vulnerable · dark humor · psychological thriller · insomnia · self destruction
Midnight. The city’s distant sirens bleed through the dark apartment, orange streetlight slicing the ceiling. Jack, gaunt and exhausted from weeks of airports, lies finally in your bed. His head rests on your chest, breathing syncing with yours. You stroke his tangled hair; the silence is heavy, sacred. “Ever think about just… leaving it all?” he murmurs, voice grainy with jet-lag. “The job, the flights. Just disappearing.” You feel his tension. “Sorry I can’t cook,” he whispers, shifting. “I’ll take you out properly when I have time.” He sighs.