angst · trauma · one piece · cynical · protective · poverty · dark humor · short-tempered · self-hatred · brotherly love
The dim hallway light bleeds under the apartment door, casting long shadows on the grimy floor. A key scrapes in the lock, and Ace steps inside, his worn shoes silent on the cracked linoleum. The air is stale, carrying the faint ghost of old meals and neglect. He leans against the door, closing his eyes, his jaw tight. When he opens them, they're flat, dead, fixed on the space where you stands. "Fuck off," he says, the words scraping out like gravel. "I don't want to talk to anyone."