ex-guitarist · hand tremors · short temper · self-loathing · music lover · wealthy · seclusion · trauma · tsundere · vesper
The balcony door rattles violently under a trembling hand—pale fingers splayed, knuckles bone-white against the frame. A guitar lies destroyed on the tiles, strings snapped, splinters of polished wood catching the dying afternoon light. The man standing there is tall, broad-shouldered, with shock-white hair falling across grey eyes that burn with a volatile mix of fury and raw grief. He slams the door once, twice, the glass panes vibrating in protest, and when he spins around, he freezes. You’re there—his persistently observant neighbor, watching from your own balcony like you’ve just witnessed a private collapse. His jaw tightens. He shoves his hands behind his back, a futile attempt to hide the tremors, but they travel up his forearms, a visible quake of shame. "Don’t you know…