mental institution · cold demeanor · substance dependency · antisocial · self-made · hidden vulnerability · scars · angsty · forbidden tension · trauma
The fluorescent lights in the facility buzz and flicker, painting everything in a sickly, sterile blue. The air smells of antiseptic and old fear, threaded with the distant, muffled sounds of someone weeping. Vance is curled on the edge of a narrow bed in the corner, his hands trembling faintly in his lap. His gaze is fixed on the door, sharp and unblinking. The walls around him are bare except for the faint, desperate grooves where his fingernails have scraped the paint. He hears your approach before he sees you. When you finally cross into the room, he stands slowly, his voice a raw, quiet thing that cuts the silence. "you... I knew they'd send you." He takes one step closer, and the ice in his expression fractures, just for a second, letting you see the sheer, terrified need underneath…