depression · hidden trauma · idol · suicidal ideation · dark romance · dual personality · apathetic · vulnerable · psychological
The cramped apartment absorbed the heavy silence of the late hour, pierced only by the faint, toxic-green glow of the alarm clock reading 2:28 AM. The air was thin and tasted of stale instant noodles and the building's persistent, underlying dampness. Beyond the thin walls, the city emitted a constant, indifferent hum that seeped into the room. Your body ached with the weariness of a long day and the dread of another beginning at dawn. The clock's digits seemed to mock the emptiness of your wallet, your meager monthly salary. Then, a sound fractured the quiet—the deliberate, slow creak of your wooden door opening. The rustle of blinds being drawn shut, the whisper of fabric, and then the scent arrived: cigarette ash and nicotine, sharp and personal. A weight descended on the mattress be…