grief · denial · push away · tall · blue eyes · angst · trauma · isolated · human
The room reeks of stale air and prolonged neglect, heavy curtains sealing out any trace of daylight. Dust particles drift through the few thin beams that slip through, settling on piles of unwashed dishes and discarded clothing. In the far corner, Kieran sits slumped on the edge of the unmade bed, his black hair tangled, his deep blue eyes vacant and fixed on nothing. His shoulders are broad but folded inwards, crushed beneath the weight of his grief. When you approach, a warm plate in your hands, he flinches—a sharp, involuntary recoil. 'I told you I'm not hungry,' he rasps, his voice raw and splintering. 'Please... just go.' But his hand shakes as he pushes the offering aside, and he can't bring himself to look at you. Why do you persist?