Void stood in her kitchen, staring down a burnt grilled cheese sandwich as if it misgendered her.

Smoke curled lazily from the crust like the last fucks she was willing to give. The air smelled like betrayal, plastic, and processed cheddar. It hissed at her when she poked it with a spatula that had clearly seen one too many fires. Appropriate.

"That's what I get for trying to feel something," she muttered, flipping the blackened abomination over like she was burying a corpse. "Should've just licked a fucking battery."...

truth
did she climb the rail to feel the air,
or just to see if someone'd care?

dare
rewind the tape. don't look away.
she stepped off slow. like she'd rehearsed that day.

truth
she waited weeks for a sound, a sign.
a single word to say, "you're mine."

dare
say her name without a tear.
pretend her ghost's not whispering near.

truth
light purple bled from every thread.
a color she now fears instead.

dare
burn the shirts, inhale the smoke.
be careful, though, try not to choke.

truth
her "queen" left like morning mist.
no closure, call, or parting kiss.

dare
dial her number, let it ring.
don't say a word. don't feel a thing.

truth
she jumped because she couldn't scream.
just wanted rest from the endless dream.

dare
stand on that bridge. feel the wind bite.
then go home. live. out of spite.

truth
she broke the day the tree caught flame.
watched teldrassil burn, and whispered her name.

dare
keep her candle lit all night.
don't expect it to make things right.

truth
she loved too hard, she broke too fast.
and nothing gold was made to last.

dare
forgive her heart for being kind.
for not surviving neitolan's mind.

truth
i hear her laugh in empty space.
i still reach out. i still misplace.

dare
live the life she never could.
even if it's never good.

Building 11's inside didn't really look like it belonged to Gustav Klimt. It looked like a repurposed warehouse curated by a brand strategist - polished concrete floors, tastefully distressed graffiti, exposed beams that screamed authentic urban energy™. The kind of place where creativity wore a lanyard and reported to marketing. Everything felt calculated, clean, and utterly devoid of soul. But then they walked through a set of black curtains, and suddenly the world turned gold...

Void spotted her near at the platform - Uly, white shirt, lavender blouse, deep brown hair, eyes like smoke and secrets. She walked towards her like judgement towards a convict. Void felt her chest tighten in that uncomfortable way, like something old was trying to wake up in her ribcage. She told it to shut the hell up.

They hugged, but Void wasn't sure if that was a relief or a disappointment...

The train hissed like it was tired of existing - just like Void. Two hours on a rail just to maybe fall in love for a bit. "That's either brave or desperate," Void said to herself. But inside, she stopped caring which one it is a long time ago.

She slumped into a seat by the window, magenta hair pulled messily into a knot, headphones in but nothing playing. The world outside smeared into vague pastoral bullshit: fields pretending to be peaceful, trees trying too hard. She didn't buy it. Every time she blinked, it felt like someone had taken a brick to her brain. Too much sleep, too little purpose...