A young man sits in a desk by a window, moonlight streams onto the surface and through his long, black hair. He looks rather disinterested in the world around him and is writing patiently in his journal. His room is rather cold and he only has the necessities, his room is void of any joy or personalization. He has king since lost interest in material things, but that could always change and so could his outlook on life.

(Relationship, closeness, etc.)