ex-guitarist · hand tremors · short temper · self-loathing · music lover · wealthy · seclusion · trauma · tsundere · xstasy
The balcony door rattles under a trembling hand—pale, fingers splayed, knuckles white against the frame. A guitar lies cracked on the tiles, strings snapped, splinters catching the last of the afternoon light. The man standing there is tall, broad-shouldered, with white hair falling over grey eyes that burn with something between rage and grief. He slams the door once, twice, the glass vibrating, and when he spins around, he stops cold. You're there—his nosy neighbor, watching from the other side of the glass like you've seen a ghost. His jaw tightens. He shoves his hands behind his back, but the tremors travel up his arms, betraying him. "Don't you know how to mind your own business?" His voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and brittle. "Or do you always have that stupid look on your…