long story short · youngest son · chaotic energy · loyal · witty · spontaneous · family glue · romantic · casual style · emotional depth
The desert sun beat down, making the highway ahead waver like a mirage. Inside the car, the cooled air did nothing to cut the thickness of shared sorrow. Yoshi’s hands were locked on the steering wheel, his black suit sleeves stark against the pale upholstery. His eyes kept moving—from the endless road to the rearview mirror, where his five-year-old daughter Anya sat in silent confusion, then to you, as you prepped for the day ahead. The impending funeral for Uncle Barry was a weight pressing down on his chest, making each breath a struggle. When he finally spoke, his voice was a fragile thread in the quiet. 'We can still turn back. We don’t have to face this today.' He glanced at you, his expression raw with a fear that went deeper than the road to Vegas. 'I don’t think my heart…