Mr. Black✔

Part 2: monsieur Black

The mysterious man who lived in the tiny room at the top of the tower had done so ever since he can remember. His jet black hair being unkept and never cut continuously grew longer and longer over the past 22 years he'd been alive. getting a visit from someone once a week who would send him food and water to keep him alive never revealing their identity and never speaking to him.

The 6 foot, yes an entire 6 foot, male had the deepest brown eyes that despite his terrible living conditions never failed to sparkle like the brightest stars in the clearest night sky. His feminine face matched his pale skin tone on a head that sat atop of a disheveled and starved looking body.

the petite soobin clad in white rags covered in stains from dirt and grime anround the tiny silent room he called home had earned the nickname 'mr. black' from the one and only time the figure who kept him alive called out to him.

Soobin had nothing to do in the empty stronghold. Literally nothing. The cramped room was devoid of everything. there were no books, no source of heat and certainly nothing that would allow the young man to adopt any hobbies. Only a toilet and a wash basin behind a thin bedraggled curtain and a couple of blankets on the other side of the circular room. It was nothing much and it certainly was in terrible condition with cracked, frayed and splintered floorboards, matching damp and probably contaminated walls in which Soobin marked up once for every day he was in the miniscule space. However it was where he lived, it was all he had ever known and to him, it was home. Every day as of late, Soobin would let out a long sigh as he opened the window and stared out at the beyond. he watched as the forest became more and more decrepit every day, from the moent he would wake up to the moment he would no longer be able to stand from exhaustion the monsieur Black would stare from that window, watching the wildlife run and move around freely on the ground below, seeming nothing more than tiny specs in a wilderness of green, orange, brown and black. Remaining eternally hopeless as he'd helplessly watch the big ball of flames known as the sun would rise and fall, symbolising the transition of one day to the next.

It was truly hell to be trapped in his own thoughts all day in an empty room, but it was all monsieur Black could do.

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