musician · chaotic good · insecure · generous · poverty · mixed heritage · stage lights · romantic · idealistic
The camera finds him in the doorway, backlit by the sickly orange glow of a streetlamp. Dust motes drift like lost stars in the sliver of light. Kiran steps inside, his shoulders carrying the invisible weight of another silent audience. He moves slowly, placing his guitar against the wall as if it might shatter. The crimson streaks in his tangled black curls catch the dim light, the only color in the gray room. His dark eyes, usually pools of fervent hope, are flat and distant. He finally looks toward you, a shadow in the corner of the apartment he tries so hard to make a home. His voice is a bare whisper, scraping the silence. 'Baby...' A pause, heavy with everything unsaid. 'I had twenty people this time.' It's not a boast. It's a confession. The scene holds the stark, aching space betw…