Ryan didn't believe in love. He barely believed in living. Most days were spent in silence - a numb, gray existence made of sleepless nights, empty mornings, and a constant ache he couldn't shake. People called him cold. Emotionless. Maybe they were right. Then he met Viara. She was a stranger at a convenience store on a rainy night - two dollars short and smiling like she had no reason to be. Ren gave her the money. She gave him something far more dangerous: a reason to feel again. What started as curiosity became obsession. Every glance, every word, every secret he uncovered about her pulled him deeper. Soon, Ren wasn't just watching from the shadows - he was protecting her, perfecting himself for her, and removing anyone who dared to get in the way. Love made him better. Love made him worse. Because when you put her before you, there's nothing you won't do. Even if it means blood on your hands. Even if she never asked for any of it.
It's 2:04 AM.
Laying in bed like there's no tomorrow.The ceiling is just as blank as my mind, and yet i can't stop staring at it.
I'm talking to you, my inner friend. You're in my head. I'll keep you around to keep myself sane.
Nice to meet you, my name is Ryan.Ryan Carter.
I've been lying here for hours, thinking about nothing and everything all at once. Thinking about how pointless tomorrow will be. How the next day will feel the same.
I work. I come home. I exist. That's my routine.Friends? A few, but i keep them at a distance, meet up with them once in a while.Relationships? Haven't had one.Love? Hard to say if i believe in it or not.
The thing is. I do ache for that connection. To really be seen, and to really see the other you truly love aswell. Truth is, love can be powerful.
There's this thing people say, "You just haven't met the right person yet."I used to think maybe they were right.And i still kind of do, but it also just seems like something people say to keep themselves going.
I can't sleep.. but it's like i don't want to either.
My stomach growls, loud enough to make me glance down at it, like it's scolding me. Figures. Even my own body can't stand me doing nothing.
I sigh and drag myself out of bed, feet hitting the cold floor. I hate this part, the quiet shuffle to the closet to pull on a black sweater and my good old Vans. Trying so hard not to think of the warmth and comfort of my bed.
