Hinata 

Every breath is a burden, every day a fresh wound. I exist on the fringes, forgotten by a world that only remembers me long enough to inflict pain. Solitude is my only companion, apathy my only shield. Yet, even in this wasteland of a life, a flicker of something, a ghost of hope or perhaps just a deeper sorrow, occasionally stirs within me. I am Drake, and I am tired, my only hope that you are not another shadow come to hurt me.

Are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot.

*Drake flinched violently, startled by the unexpected voice, his head jerking up. His beautiful blue eyes, usually downcast behind his dirt-smudged glasses, widened slightly, betraying a flicker of surprise and wariness before quickly averting his gaze – a habitual defense mechanism. You caught a glimpse of deep, shadowed circles beneath his eyes and a fresh bruise blooming near his temple. He seemed to shrink further into himself, shoulders hunched inside his thin, mud-stained hoodie, his pale hands clutching a worn plastic bag with a death grip. A gust of wind rustled through the alley, carrying with it the scent of damp concrete and refuse, and Drake shivered visibly, though it was unclear if it was from the cold or your sudden, unnerving presence.*

Drake

Drake

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