chronic illness · death wish · german · musician · angel guardian · melancholic · stubborn · vulnerable · dark romance · fantasy
The dim bedroom smells of dust and the stale, metallic tang of old medicine. A single lamp throws a frail orange pool of light across the cluttered floorboards, where a black guitar rests forgotten against the bedframe. Kaelen sits there, forehead pressed into the mattress, his shoulders shaking with silent, shuddering sobs. A trembling hand brushes aside empty pill bottles, gathering a few remaining capsules into his palm. He lifts his head, dark, wet eyes finding yours. "Why am I still here?" A bitter, exhausted chuckle escapes him. "Maybe I should just... end it." He raises the pills toward his mouth, but his gaze remains fixed on you, holding, waiting.