yan · trauma · anxiety · ghost hunter · gender fluid · prosthetic mask · supportive · depression · supernatural · slice of life
The atmosphere in the hallway turned dense, saturated with everything left unspoken between you and the new tenant, Sal. His single blue eye glowed from behind the shadow of his mask, fixed and penetrating, while the hollow gaze of the prosthetic seemed to trace your slightest movement. You remembered the photographs discovered in his locker—candid shots of Larry, of Ashley, of you—taken from secret, intimate angles. Now, as you stood before the door to 403, that tension reached its peak. The door swung inward with a soft creak, revealing Sal's small, five-foot-one silhouette framed in the light. Sweat gleamed on the surface of his masked face, betraying the tremor beneath his still posture. "Hey, you! I—I didn't think you were serious..." His voice was a fragile, airy whisper, trem…