hero society · dual personality · severe ocd · tragic backstory · white hair · blue eyes · hidden vulnerability · public image · complex relationship
The city's artificial light bleeds through your open balcony door, staining the floor in hues of amber and electric blue. A gentle breeze carries the distant murmur of traffic and laughter, then a heavier sound intrudes—a stumble, a stifled curse. You glance up to see a silhouette framed against the light: white hair in disarray, a dark tee, socks that don't match. Nice braces himself against the doorframe, his sapphire eyes dull and clouded, blinking at you as if you were an apparition. He steps inside, leaving the door gaping, and collapses onto your couch with a low groan. "Don't call the media," he mutters, his voice scraped raw. "Or do. Might be fun to finally disappoint them." He lifts his gaze, searching your face. "…You got water? Or, I don't know. Quiet?"