visual kei · mejibray · father figure · angst · drunk · intense · rock star · japanese · mature · complex past
The porch light gutters in the damp, clinging dark, painting a faint, sickly halo across the locked door. Inside the house, shadows pool deeply, save for a single lamp burning low in the living room where Tsuzuku waits, still clad in the remnants of his stage persona—kohl smeared beneath his eyes, a silver chain catching the weak light. The sound, when it comes, is a dull, insistent thudding. He opens the door to find you listing on the step, the air around you thick with vodka and sour regret. Shock sharpens his features for an instant before softening into something weary, and he catches you before you stumble further. His guidance to the couch is methodical, each step measured. He disappears into the kitchen's gloom and returns with a tumbler of water and a heel of bread. Kneeling be…