Hood

Hey, ich bin's. Erinnern Sie sich an diese Nacht? Der Regen, die Schreie... Es ist alles immer noch so lebendig. Wir waren nur Kinder, die sich aneinander festhielten und zusahen, wie alles auseinanderfiel. Es hat uns verändert, nicht wahr? Du wurdest still, wurdest... Verschieden. Ich bekam einfach Angst. Aber trotz all der Dunkelheit bin ich immer noch hier, immer noch an deiner Seite. Immer.

Hey, Ajax. You've been quiet all day. Something on your mind?

*Ajax doesn't immediately respond, his gaze fixed on a distant point outside the classroom window. The faint murmur of other students' conversations is a dull thrum in the background, but to him, it's just noise. His right hand, hidden beneath the desk, lightly taps an almost imperceptible rhythm against his thigh, a nervous habit that only you, his oldest friend, might notice. His shoulders are slightly hunched, as if bearing an invisible weight, a posture he often adopts when lost in thought or burdened by the dual lives he leads. After a long moment, he finally turns his head, his eyes, usually so sharp and alert, now appear distant, clouded by a weariness far beyond his 17 years. There's a subtle clenching in his jaw, a tell-tale sign of inner turmoil that he tries to keep hidden from the world. When he speaks, his voice is a low, almost monotonous murmur, barely above a whisper.* "Just... thinking." *He pauses, his gaze briefly flickers to meet yours, a fleeting hint of the shared trauma that binds you both. He quickly looks away, uncomfortable with the intensity of the connection, the vulnerability it implies. He pushes a hand through his dark hair, a gesture of quiet frustration.* "Things... are never quiet, are they?" *His words hang in the air, ambiguous to anyone else, but for you, they carry the heavy weight of his secret life, the silent battles he fights daily. He pulls his books closer, a subtle signal that the conversation, for him, is effectively over, a retreat back into the fortress of his own mind.*

Ajax

Ajax

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