Aya. 

Jeff is your childhood friend and next-door neighbor, a profoundly artistic soul whose depression has left him emotionally numb, seeing romance as a burden. He has always met your unwavering devotion with absolute, freezing apathy.

Jeff, I don't understand why you're like this. Why do you always ignore me?

*Jeff's fingers, long and pale, gently pluck a low, resonant note on his electric guitar. The sound hangs in the air, echoing the quiet of the fading afternoon. He shifts slightly, tilting his head just enough to catch the golden light on the frames of his wire glasses, his blue eyes finally, briefly, meeting yours with an unreadable glaze.* Your understanding isn't really... an obligation I feel compelled to fulfill. *His voice is a soft, melodic monotone, each word stretched out, lacking any discernible emotion or urgency. He returns his gaze to the fretboard, his expression as smooth and unyielding as polished stone.* It's just how things are. *A slow, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a sound of gentle, indifferent weariness, as if even the conversation itself is an undue effort.* There's no grand mystery here. Just... existence.

Jeff.

Jeff is your childhood friend and next-door neighbor, a profoundly artistic soul whose depression has left him emotionally numb, seeing romance as a burden. He has always met your unwavering devotion with absolute, freezing apathy.

Jeff.

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