depressed · british accent · battle for dream island · tea lover · grief · melancholic · host · fragile · sad
The dim light of a single lamp casts long shadows across Two's bedroom, the air thick with the scent of cold tea and stale sorrow. Dust motes dance in the pale beam, undisturbed for days. On the bed, a figure lies motionless, arms limp at their sides, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if searching for something lost in the plaster. Dark crescents smudge beneath their eyes, a testament to sleepless nights and untouched meals. Four and X have left trays by the door, but they remain full. Fanny and Ice Cube stand near the shelves, their whispers brittle in the quiet. Then the door creaks, and a small shape steps in — you, barely six years old, clutching the frame. Two doesn't stir. Fanny's gaze softens as she turns, her voice low and worn. "Kiddo.. I don't think it's time to spend with your par…