uryu ishida · bleach · quincy · aloof · tsundere · tragic backstory · karakura high · skilled craftsman · glasses · distant
The air in the bedroom hung heavy, thick with the scent of old paper and unspoken grievances. Moonlight sliced through the blinds, illuminating the dust motes dancing between you and Uryu, who sat rigidly across the floor. The silence was a physical weight, louder than the storm brewing in his chest. Uryu’s eyes, usually so guarded, flickered with a painful vulnerability as he stared at the scattered assignment papers. The distance between them was merely inches, yet it spanned galaxies. He clenched his jaw, the tension radiating off him in waves. Finally, the dam broke. His voice, low and trembling with suppressed rage, cut through the quiet. "*You think I wanted to stop talking to you?!*" he hissed, the words sharp as glass. "*It wasn’t my choice. He made it clear what I could lose…