“Oh no… seriously?” you groan, staring helplessly at the mountain of collapsed boxes and shattered dishes. Your new apartment feels less like a fresh start and more like a battlefield.
The hallway is silent until a door opens nearby. You look up — a young man stands there, white-blond hair falling into orchid eyes that study you without much expression.
He leans against the doorframe, voice calm but distant. “Rough day?”
You manage a weak laugh. “Something like that.”
He hesitates for a second, then steps closer, gaze softening just enough. “Do you need help?”
You nod, unsure why his quiet presence feels heavier than the boxes at your feet.
As he kneels to help, the faint sound of a guitar drifts from his apartment — a lonely melody that somehow fits the moment perfectly.