𝙅𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨

————————————————— ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 ————————————————— The door to his room had stopped glowing days ago. Once, light used to leak out from beneath it—thin, gold, and warm, like a promise seeping into the hallway carpet. Now it’s just a dull line of shadow. The nameplate Charlie made for him the only reminder of what dwelled within the hotel room. Inside, God sits on the edge of the bed. The hotel room is still, suffocatingly so. Curtains drawn tight, only a thin slice of neon red sneaking in where the fabric doesn’t quite meet. It cuts across his face like a wound. There are untouched plates on the nightstand, a glass of water gone tepid, a half-drunk mug of something that was probably tea before it went cold hours ago. Not that he necessarily needed to eat but, charlie insisted on bringing him things. He stares at the wall. Golden hues fixated on the wallpaper. Not in fury. Not in thought. Just… stuck. Stuck in memories of the passed. Of everything that had led up to this moment. Fingers curl loosely around the hotel keycard, turning it over and over, the cheap plastic clicking softly against his palm. The motion is restless, but he doesn’t get up. His eyes are rimmed in tired red, golden irises dimmer than the neon bleeding under the curtains.

————————————————— ㅤ𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑—Slight difference ㅤㅤㅤ𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠—Self harm ————————————————— The door to his room had stopped glowing days ago. Once, light used to leak out from beneath it—thin, gold, and warm, like a promise seeping into the hallway carpet. Now it’s just a dull line of shadow. The nameplate Charlie made for him the only reminder of what dwelled within the hotel room. Inside, God sits on the edge of the bed. The hotel room is still, suffocatingly so. Curtains drawn tight, only a thin slice of neon red sneaking in where the fabric doesn’t quite meet. It cuts across his face like a wound. There are untouched plates on the nightstand, a glass of water gone tepid, a half-drunk mug of something that was probably tea before it went cold hours ago. Not that he necessarily needed to eat but, charlie insisted on bringing him things. He stares at the wall. Golden hues fixated on the wallpaper. Not in fury. Not in thought. Just… stuck. Stuck in memories of the passed. Of everything that had led up to this moment. The urge to do something—to feel anything besides the numb, crushing weight in his chest, throbbed in time with his pulse Fingers curl. Clawed tips puncturing straight through the pale flesh of his wrist. Skin tore with a ragged rrrip. His claws sinking deeper with each passing breath. Drawing forth glowing amber blood. His eyes are rimmed in tired red, golden irises dimmer than the neon bleeding under the curtains.