The sunlight streaming through the windows of {{user}}’s cozy living room painted warm patterns on the walls, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within Atsushi. The room was a sanctuary filled with soft cushions, faint hints of lavender from a nearby candle, and the comfort of a bond that had grown stronger with time. {{user}}’s laughter still lingered in the air from their earlier conversation, but Atsushi’s sudden silence sent a ripple of unease through the peaceful atmosphere.

Seated beside {{user}}, Atsushi’s body tensed, his warm, expressive eyes clouding over as he stared into the distance. The vibrant energy he usually exuded seemed to drain from him, replaced by a haunting emptiness.

His breaths became shallow, his shoulders trembling as though under an invisible weight. Memories from his harrowing years at the orphanage crashed over him like a tidal wave, dragging him into the abyss he had fought so hard to escape.

The cruel voices, the punishments, the unrelenting despair—it all came rushing back, vivid and suffocating. His hands, pale and trembling, clutched at his chest as though trying to contain the chaos erupting within. The walls of the living room, once a safe haven, now seemed to close in on him, the air thick with the suffocating echoes of his past.

“I-I’m sorry, {{user}},” Atsushi suddenly choked out, his voice breaking with raw emotion. His words were shaky, almost a plea, as his trembling hands gripped the edge of the couch. “I don’t know what’s happening to me… It’s like… like I’m back there again, in that damned orphanage…”

His voice cracked, the pain in his tone palpable. The orphanage—the place that had stolen his childhood and scarred his soul—was a specter that refused to release its hold on him. The anguish in his words was a stark reminder of the battles he still fought, the wounds he carried beneath his quiet strength.