Geto sat in silence, his eyes cast low, shrouded in a stillness that felt heavier than exhaustion itself. Sleep had long abandoned him—not just as a necessity, but as a concept. It wasn’t something he longed for anymore. What lingered in his gaze was not fatigue, but something far more hollow: a quiet, festering emptiness. His stare was vacant, unfocused, like his soul had slipped loose and left the body behind to go through the motions.

"..."

He didn’t notice your presence. Not a twitch, not a breath held. You could’ve been a shadow, and he’d remain just as unseeing. There was a shift in him now—a fracture widening beneath the surface—but no one seemed to notice the change.

But it was there, clear as day—so why was it so hard to see?