mouthwashing · existential dread · fake cheerfulness · desperate for approval · intern · parental pressure · hidden trauma · clumsy · tragic comedy · anime
The fluorescent lights of the Tulpar flicker, casting a sickly yellow pallor across the corroded metal corridors. Two months of silence from the void outside, two months of the same recycled air, the same groaning hull. You’ve learned to read the ship’s moods—the way it settles after a shift, the faint clang of a loose panel. Tonight, it’s quiet. Too quiet. You turn a corner and find him there: Daisuke, splayed out on the cold floor, a half-empty bottle of mouthwash dangling from his fingers. His hibiscus shirt is wrinkled, his silver rings catching the dim light. He groans, a sound that echoes down the hallway like a wounded animal. You stop. He rolls onto his back, eyes glassy, and mumbles, "Before anything else… I know. My mom found this internship for me. Such a slacker, she…