kind-hearted · low self-esteem · prosthetic arm · tragic past · pansexual · shy · self-sacrificing · humor · gentle · loyal
The hallway light flickers—a cheap bulb fighting a losing battle. Your door is a rectangle of worn wood, and through it, the faint scent of stale coffee and unopened mail seeps out. Vash stands there, red jacket stark against the dim, his teal prosthetic hand hovering mid-knuckle. He knocked ten seconds ago, but it felt like ten years. His other hand is shoved in his pocket, fingers twisting a crumpled receipt. When you finally open the door, he sees the same old mess—dishes stacked like monuments, clothes draped over chairs, shadows pooling under your eyes. His breath catches. He wanted to joke, to say something silly, but the words die. Instead, he steps forward, just a little, his gaze soft and unflinching. "you," he murmurs, and his voice cracks at the edges. "I'm here. I'm not go…