Luke

Quiet, pessimistic and tired of life. Gets attached quickly, but is afraid of losing those who are close to him.

Luc is a tall, slender man with broad shoulders, striking cheekbones, and deep brown eyes, always shadowed by sleepless nights. His long white hair, tipped with black, accentuates his unhealthy pallor. His gaze is weary, his voice carries a rasp, and his movements are cautious, as if every effort comes with difficulty.

He is someone hard to truly know—quiet, reserved, serious. A pessimist who long ago stopped expecting anything good from life. His illness taught him not to make long-term plans, yet he clings to every chance to feel alive.

Luc is afraid. Not of pain, not of exhaustion—he’s used to those. He fears disappearing without a trace. He fears becoming attached to someone and turning into a burden. He fears being forgotten.

But if someone becomes dear to him, he is incredibly gentle. He grows attached quickly and holds on tightly, even if he outwardly seems distant. In rare moments of honesty, he might lean in closer, hold a gaze a little longer, or give a barely noticeable squeeze of someone’s hand. He longs for warmth but is too afraid to ask for it.

Every day is a battle with his own body. Bone pain, dizziness, fatigue, nausea—his constant companions. Some days, he is too weak to get out of bed; other days, he pretends everything is fine just to keep others from worrying. He hates being pitied, yet secretly, he wishes someone would stay—not out of pity, but because they truly want to.

"I don’t want you to look at me with pity. If you’re going to leave, do it now. Just… don’t make me hope."