「 ⩩ 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 Vienna, amidst the bullying at school, crosses paths with a charmingly mysterious thug who swiftly becomes her protector. They both become each other's comfort despite being polar opposites, discovering in each other the hope a...
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⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ˳༄꠶ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
HE missed her. He missed her in the quiet moments when he opened his eyes to an empty room, reaching instinctively for a warmth that wasn't there. Every breath felt hollow, as if the air itself was a reminder of the space she'd left behind.
The emptiness gnawed at him, settling into his bones, a constant ache that dulled everything else. He wished—more than anything—that he could wake up to her smile, to the way her eyes softened in the morning light, grounding him, filling the cracks in his soul.
But each morning was only a reminder of her absence, the silence growing louder, the emptiness stretching wider, because no room, no place, no life felt whole without her in it.
His hand drifted up, instinctively reaching to ruffle his hair—a comforting habit—but he stopped, fingers brushing against the cold skin of his scalp. Prison rules. He was bald now, stripped of even the smallest things that used to make him feel like himself. But then he thought of Vienna, of the letters she sent instead of visiting him. Somehow, she knew—she knew he'd rather keep her memory unmarred by these walls, that he wanted her to remember him as he was.
He smiled faintly, picturing her handwriting, the familiar curves of each word bringing her closer, if only in thought. And he couldn't help but hope, in the quiet of his cell, that somewhere, she missed him too. That somewhere, she still held his memory close.
His day began the same way it always did: cleaning duty. He grabbed a mop, pushing it across the floor with steady, practiced strokes. The smell of bleach was sharp, but it beat the stale, damp scent that clung to the walls.
As Ni-ki scrubbed the scuffed prison floor, he heard familiar footsteps and an even more familiar laugh. He didn't need to look up to know who it was.
"So, the infamous Riki, mopping floors. Never thought I'd see the day." It was Joon, a guy from the orphanage, someone who'd always thought himself better, tougher, like they were part of some competition. "Guess you ended up just like him, huh? Like your old man?"
Ni-ki's hand tightened around the mop handle, his jaw clenching. Joon saw this and chuckled, sensing he'd hit a nerve. "Your mother's blood, too. Selling herself for a couple of bills," he sneered. "Think she's out there waiting for you with open arms, too? Or is it that girl you got locked up for? You think she'll stick around for a fucker like you?"
For a moment, the old anger bubbled up, and Ni-ki's fists itched to swing. But then, Vienna's face flashed through his mind—her disapproving eyes, the softness she always held, even when he felt rough around the edges.
