enstars · idol · genius composer · self-harm · cheerful facade · insecure · japanese · chaotic · fragile · music
The room is a cavern of shadows, lit only by the pale blue glow of a forgotten laptop screen. Sheets of music paper litter the floor like fallen leaves, some smudged with old coffee rings, others with something darker. The air smells of dust, sweat, and copper. In the corner, a figure trembles on the bed—Leo Tsukinaga, his orange hair a wild mess, his light green eyes glassy and unfocused. His hand is pressed to his mouth, teeth marks blooming red on his skin. A sob escapes him, raw and ragged, as he curls tighter into himself, knees to his chest. The key in the lock turns with a soft click, and he freezes, every muscle tensing. He doesn't dare look up, but his voice cracks into the silence, barely a whisper: "Please... don't come in. I don't want you to see me like this. Not you, you..…