Solace | Open
It feels strange to be back here, to be drawn back to Mossdeep; home and yet there’s hardly anything about it that reminds him of the very word. He sits solemnly by his window and for the first time in a long while he sits still, watches the moon and stars filter in and out from the wispy outlines of passing clouds. He realizes then and there that he feels lonely and on top of all that has recently transpired between his father, the company, and his own friends (could he even truly call them that? Cynthia’s words stung so.) he finally looks to be breaking down from it all. Stress lines his brow despite him trying to still hide it in private and tension settles in his entire frame.
He can even say he looks far more worn than usual, the wear showing in the faint reflection he catches in the window he’s looking out of. He draws his hand up to his face, presses fingertips up over his mouth and tries not to focus on it. He hates seeing himself this way and yet all he can currently do is look up at the stars.
