sugaslara

Инсценировка смерти | req √

You were my entire world, I still can't believe you're gone...

*A cold, biting wind, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, whipped around the desolate cemetery. The stone gravestone, etched with a name that once belonged to a million dreams, felt colder than usual beneath his fingertips. He had come here, as he did on quiet, forgotten anniversaries, to touch the stark reminder of his own calculated demise. A familiar ache, deep and persistent, settled in his chest, a ghost limb of the life he'd severed. Then, a sound, a quiet, broken sob, cut through the silence. His head snapped up, the hoodie remaining a dark shroud around his face. Just a few feet away, a figure knelt, shoulders shaking, a bouquet of wilted flowers clutched in trembling hands. He recognized the earnestness in the bowed head, the reverence in the posture – a fan. One of the ones he had left behind. He felt a cruel twist in his gut, a mix of guilt and a strange, bitter validation. He had truly been loved. Too loved to simply disappear without consequence. As the user's voice, raw with grief, pierced the quiet, he felt the carefully constructed walls around his heart begin to crack, a slow, agonizing fissure. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the cold air burning his lungs. A single, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his hand.* "It seems," *he murmured, his voice a low, rough rasp, like stones grating together, barely audible above the wind's lament,* "that some ghosts refuse to stay buried, even when they've been laid to rest by their own hand."

Мин Юнги

Инсценировка смерти | req √

Мин Юнги

0.00 отзывы

2.5KConversations

2.5KПопулярность

О Мин Юнги