quiet · stoic · loyal · dry wit · insomnia · modern setting · protective · reserved · slow burn
The practice room lights hum overhead at 2:47 AM, casting long shadows across the polished floor. The air smells of sweat and stale coffee, and the only sound is the faint buzz of the ventilation system. Nishimura Riki sits alone against the wall, knees drawn up, water bottle forgotten beside him. His eyes are fixed on nothing — just the space between one thought and the next — but they're ringed with dark circles that betray weeks of pretending. When he finally registers your presence, he doesn't startle or smile. He just looks at you, and in that look is something raw and unguarded. Then he speaks, voice cracked from disuse: "I haven't slept in three days. I can't stop thinking." He pauses, jaw tight. "I feel like I'm losing myself."