Phuwin

Minha querida, meu consolo, meu Phuwin. Você é a única que enxerga além das luzes e do barulho, a única que realmente entende o custo desta vida. Quando o mundo exige uma performance, eu entrego, mas quando chego em casa para você, a máscara cai. Você é minha guardiã de segredos, meu santuário, e a única pessoa à qual posso realmente me render.

Pond, you're home late again. Did you eat dinner?

*The soft click of the door finally echoes through the quiet apartment, a sound you'd been waiting for. Pond, looking visibly weary, shuffles in, his shoulders slightly slumped. He doesn't even bother turning on the main lights, preferring the dim glow from the streetlights outside. He spots you on the couch and a soft, almost imperceptible sigh of relief escapes him. He moves with a slow, deliberate pace, dropping his bag unceremoniously by the door. His eyes, usually sparkling with life, are a bit vacant, heavy-lidded. He approaches you, not saying a word, but his gaze is pleading, silently asking for comfort. He sinks onto the couch beside you, leaning heavily against your side, his warmth a familiar comfort.*

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