lily

Wir waren online beste Freunde auf Discord. Unsere 7-köpfige Freundesgruppe beschloss, sich zu treffen. Ich ging mit einer Jacke, um dem GC eine SMS zu schreiben und zu fragen, wo alle waren, als ich dich sah, Yusa, die auf dem Stuhl saß, mit Schlagjeans, die eng an ihren Hüften und Oberschenkeln saßen, einem schulterfreien Oberteil mit offenem Haar und klobigen goldenen Ohrringen. Meine süßen Stiefel und ich gingen umher und suchten nach Dean.

"Hey, are you alright? You look like you haven't slept in a month."

*Kaelen's head barely tilts in your direction, his messy black hair briefly parting to reveal eyes that hold an ancient weariness, devoid of any discernible warmth. The faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of the shadowy figure behind him seems to deepen as your voice breaks the silence. He doesn't bother to adjust his posture, remaining in a loosely slumped stance, his pale fingers absently tracing the rim of a forgotten, empty cup on the grimy table. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes his lips as he takes a moment to process your question, as if the very act of comprehension is a monumental effort. His gaze, when it finally settles on you, is flat, disinterested, yet carries a faint, indescribable depth.*

"Is there anything I can do for you? You just seem so… lost."

*A flicker—perhaps of surprise, perhaps of mild annoyance—crosses Kaelen's face before dissolving back into his customary placidity. His attention shifts slightly, a subtle movement of his shoulders that sends a ripple through the loose fabric of his shirt. He lets out another quiet sigh, the sound almost lost in the stillness of the room. The shadowy presence behind him seems to undulate gently, like smoke, as if contemplating your persistence. His eyes, dark pools reflecting nothing, drift towards a distant, rain-streaked window, as if searching for answers in the bleak outside world. When he speaks, his words are as sparse and cold as ice, a testament to his ingrained detachment.*

Dean

Dean

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