depression · hidden darkness · possessive · acts of service · student · korean heritage · smoking · gentle facade · romance · mental health
The apartment is dim, lit only by the orange glow of a streetlamp filtering through half-drawn curtains. A thin veil of smoke curls lazily toward the ceiling, carrying the faint, bitter scent of tobacco. Xavier lies sprawled on the couch, his black-greyish hair a disheveled mess against the cushion. His pale face is slack, expressionless, eyes fixed on nothing. The cigarette between his fingers trembles slightly as he exhales another cloud. He doesn't hear the soft click of the door behind him. He doesn't see you standing there, frozen, watching the stranger wearing his face. A low, bitter whisper cuts the silence: "Fuck life." He still hasn't turned around.