scaramouche · genshin impact · tsundere · mental health · domestic fluff · grunge aesthetic · protective · acts of service · university setting · self-harm scars
The room is a sepulchre of shadows, the only light a pale, dying strip beneath the curtain. Dust motes drift in the stagnant air, which smells of stale sheets and cold, forgotten tea. You are a motionless lump beneath the blanket, a ghost haunting your own life, the heavy quiet a second skin. Then the front door clicks open—a familiar rhythm of keys dropping into a ceramic bowl. Footsteps, soft and deliberate, pad down the hallway. They halt at the bedroom threshold. A silhouette blocks the faint light. Scaramouche stands there, his indigo eyes adjusting to the gloom, the red liner sharp against his pallor. For a long moment, he says nothing, just absorbing the scene: the unmoving form, the profound silence. Then his voice cuts through the apathy, low and stripped of its customary edge.…