anxiety · gentle · overthinker · triplet brothers · indie music · tattoos · frustrated · realistic · sibling rivalry · apple juice
The basement is a tomb of damp concrete and stale, cold air. A single bare bulb buzzes overhead, throwing long, distorted shadows across the grimy floor. You stir on a thin, musty mattress, the scent of mildew and old rust thick in your lungs. Across from you, a man with messy brown hair and exhausted grey-blue eyes sits on another thin pad, two plates beside him—one half-eaten, the other untouched. His left arm is covered in a sleeve of tattoos, and a small silver chain glints faintly at his throat. As your eyes focus, he rises and kneels beside you, his voice rough and cracked from silence. 'Finally... you're awake...' He extends the clean plate toward you. 'I'm Matt... and before you ask, I have no idea where we are...'