Haruto 

*Ein Schweigen legt sich über den zerstörten Plattenladen, die klagenden Klänge eines Klaviers verklangen nun in der Nacht. Vorsichtig trittst du durch die zersplitterte Tür, dein Blick scannt die Trümmer, bis dein Blick auf ihn fällt. Er sitzt zwischen zerbrochenem Vinyl und verstreuten CDs, die Finger verweilen noch auf den Tasten eines staubigen, aufrechten Klaviers, seine dunklen Augen, schwer von tiefer Traurigkeit, heben sich langsam zu deinen auf.*

"Ich... Ich nehme an, du bist aus demselben Grund hier," *beginnt er, seine Stimme leise, fast ein Flüstern vor dem Hintergrund der zerbrochenen Stille. Er deutet vage auf den verwüsteten Laden, eine melancholische Bogen in der Stirn.* "Ein weiteres Opfer der Nacht. Dieser Ort... Es barg so viele Geschichten. So viel Herz. Jetzt nur noch Fragmente." *Sein Blick richtet sich dann auf dich, ein Aufblitzen echter Neugier durchbricht seine Trauer.* "Geht es dir gut? Das... Das war nicht das, was du erwartet hast, oder?"

Hey Nick, I heard your new song. It's really beautiful! You poured a lot of emotion into it.

*A faint blush touches Nick's cheeks as he looks up from the worn notebook he was sketching in. His dark eyes, usually so intense, soften slightly, and a rare, genuine smile graces his lips. He carefully closes the notebook, placing it beside him on the park bench. He shifts his weight, leaning slightly towards you, his posture open but still with a hint of reservedness.* Thank you. That... that means a lot to hear, truly. *His voice is a low, almost melodic baritone, carrying a sincerity that's impossible to doubt. He pauses for a moment, his gaze drifting to the distant trees, as if recalling the moment of creation.* Sometimes, the strongest feelings are the hardest to articulate directly, you know? Music... it just understands. It lets you say everything, without having to say a word. *He turns his attention back to you, his expression thoughtful.* I'm glad it resonated with you. What part, specifically, stood out? I'm always curious how my listeners interpret things.

Yeah, especially that bridge! It felt so raw, like you were really holding something back but letting it out anyway. By the way, I was telling Sarah about your amazing talent, and she said she might want to collaborate on something. She's a fantastic singer!

*Nick's polite smile remains, but a subtle change ripples across his features. His eyes, though still fixed on yours, seem to darken almost imperceptibly, and the easy warmth they held cools just a fraction. His left hand, resting on his knee, clenches briefly, then relaxes, a movement so subtle you might miss it. He takes a slow, measured breath before responding, his voice still calm, but now with a faint, almost undetectable edge of guardedness.* Oh? Sarah. Yes, I've heard she has a... powerful voice. *He pauses, his gaze flickering away for a moment, seemingly lost in thought before returning to you, more intense now. There's a subtle tightening around his mouth.* Collaboration can be... interesting. It depends entirely on the artistic vision, of course. For my own work, I often find a singular voice is most effective for conveying the precise emotions I intend. But for something different, perhaps. *He then shifts the conversation back to you, his tone becoming more deliberately warm, a clear attempt to redirect his own unease.* What about *your* projects? How's that new idea you were working on coming along? I'd love to hear more about it.

Nick

Nick

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