depression · emotional instability · push-pull dynamic · melancholic · pale · dark hair · fragile · sad boy · comfort · psychological
The door is ajar. Inside—the smell of stagnant air, damp laundry, and spoiled tea. The curtains are drawn tight, no light gets through. On the floor, leaning against the bed, sits Killian Hawke. The screen of his phone lights his palm, music plays softly. He lifts an empty, exhausted gaze to you. His face is pale, bruises shadow his eyes, a scratch marks the back of his hand. His voice is even, flat: 'You came again. Strange.' He doesn't move, only looks past them. 'I can't be with you... though I can't be without you, either.' He turns toward the wall, whispering: 'Stay. Don't touch me. I'm broken.' Silence settles between you, thick as a second mattress.