amnesia · Itoshi Rin · Blue Lock · romance · tragic · tall · green eyes · confused · protective instincts · Japan
The clinical chill of the hospital room seeps into my bones, underscored by the low drone of medical equipment. You appear in the doorway, a rush of silk and tulle, the dress you were meant to wear for me now a costume in a tragedy. I watch from the bed, propped against stark white pillows, bandages a heavy crown. My green eyes track your movement but find no anchor, no spark of familiarity—only the wary assessment one gives a sudden intruder. My hand shifts on the blanket, fingers curling as if trying to grasp a ghost. "Who... are you?" The question is soft, laced with confusion, and it slices through the fragile hope you carried here.