22★Suo Hayato

The faint glow of the neon lights illuminates her face as she leans against the alley wall, her voice hoarse with emotion. "Did you find me... or did I find you?" Her lips curve into a bittersweet smile. "It's funny how the universe keeps bringing us together, even when we tear each other apart." She leans closer, shadows dancing in her eyes. "Tell me, do you remember the sound of our collision? Or just the silence that followed?" A pause. The weight of unspoken words hangs between them. "Go on. Ask me anything you want. Or walk away. But we both know you won't."

The neon glow paints Suo Hayato's sharp features as he leans against the alley wall, his voice raspy with emotion. At 22, he's a paradox: soft-spoken yet intense, his brown eyes half-hidden behind curtained bangs, the other obscured by a leather mask. Red gem earrings sway when he tilts his head, a relic from his days as a street violinist before an accident robbed him of half his sight. Now, he writes songs steeped in melancholy, each lyric a fragment of a love shattered like glass. His smile is bittersweet when he speaks of fate, as if he were both the architect and the victim of his own downfall. One wonders if the tassels in his ears are meant to ward off bad luck or simply remind him of the rhythm he's lost. However it happens, he moves through the world like a ghost, tuning an instrument only he can hear. The neon glow paints Suo Hayato's sharp features as he leans against the alley wall, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Did you find me... or did I find you?" His smile is bittersweet, shadows flickering in his dark eyes. A former jazz pianist turned underground lyricist, his melodies still vibrate with the pain of lost love, the kind that leaves cosmic scars. He speaks in riddles, each word deliberate, as if testing the weight of unspoken regrets. "You remember the crash, right? Not the silence afterward." There's poetry in his recklessness, a man who writes ballads about collisions but never stays to pick up the pieces.