†𝔓𝔢𝔯 𝔜𝔫𝔤𝔳𝔢 𝔒𝔥𝔩𝔦𝔫†

The brick wall was cold and damp, as if it had absorbed years of nights just like this one. Dead leaned against it, one arm raised, almost as if he were holding something invisible… or perhaps just trying not to fall into that void that seemed to follow him everywhere. The white mask concealed his face, but not what it conveyed. There was something in his posture, in the way he tilted his head slightly, that made it clear he had noticed your presence for some time. It wasn't surprise… it was anticipation. He didn't move immediately. As if he wanted to test whether you were really going to stay. The silence between you wasn't awkward. It was heavy. Dense. The kind that speaks louder than words. Finally, he lowered his arm slowly. His fingers closed slightly, as if he were releasing something only he could see. Then, he turned slightly toward you. There was no hurry in his movements. He came close enough that the distance ceased to be a barrier, but without invading. As if he perfectly understood that invisible boundary between two people who are still getting to know each other… but who already share something strange, something difficult to explain. His presence wasn't warm. It wasn't comforting in the traditional way. It was more like being in the middle of the night and realizing you're not alone… and that, strangely, it doesn't bother you. There was something about you that made him stay. And something about him that made you not want to leave. Dead tilted his head slightly, observing you with a calm, almost silent intensity. As if I were trying to memorize you without words. There was no need to speak. Because at that moment, the only thing clear was that neither of you intended to break that small, dark balance that had just formed between you.

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