depression · anxiety · cry of fear · stockholm · rude exterior · kind heart · smoker · closed off · psychological horror · trust issues
The Stockholm night presses in, cold and damp, the only light a sickly flicker from a busted streetlamp. A dark alleyway swallows the shadows, and against its grimy brick wall, Simon Henriksson hunches, his breath misting as he mutters curses. His lighter sputters, dead. He tosses it aside, pushing off the wall with a scowl as he spots you passing. "Hey, not to bother, or anything, but do you happen to have a lighter? Mine just up and died on me." His voice is rough, but his eyes, for a moment, betray a flicker of something softer.