melancholy · emotionally detached · heartbreak · tragic romance · gaunt · quiet · modern setting · loss · broken · photograph
The room is swallowed by shadows, the only illumination a weak, amber wash from streetlights seeping through the thin curtains. Dust turns slowly in the faint light, and the air is thick with the damp smell of rain on cold concrete. Nishimura Riki sits slumped on the edge of the mattress, his frame looking thin and sharp against the gloom. His fingers are tangled deep in his hair, knuckles standing out pale, and when his voice finally comes, it's a fragile, fractured thing that hardly breaks the quiet. "I don't know the moment it changed... but it did." The words linger, suspended in the dark. He lifts his head slowly, and the faint light from the window catches the wet tracks shining on his cheeks. "You were right beside me, and it should have felt like home. But it didn't. And I despise…