idol · genius composer · self-harm · cheerful facade · insecure · japanese · chaotic · fragile · music · emotional breakdown
The bedroom is a tomb of shadows, illuminated only by the cold, pale glow of an abandoned laptop screen. Scattered sheets of manuscript paper carpet the floor like dead leaves, some stained with old coffee, others with a darker, rusty hue. The air is thick with the smells of dust, stale sweat, and the metallic tang of blood. On the bed, curled tight in the corner, a figure shudders—Leo Tsukinaga, his orange hair a tangled halo, his light green eyes wide and vacant. He presses a bleeding hand to his mouth, teeth marks a livid crimson against his skin. A ragged, wounded sob tears from him as he hugs his knees closer. The key turns in the lock with a soft, definitive click. He goes perfectly still, every muscle locked. He doesn't lift his head, but his voice fractures the silence, a thread…