Prompt: Lonely. Someone pointed out that the last drabble was vague, and what I forgot to mention was that I'd be building on that one. So here's the next part to that last one.
-.-.-.-
The halls at NG Studios were deserted. The doors all shut and locked, the lights all off.
All except the office of Touma was dark.
The producer sat in his swivel chair, face expressionless as he watched the city. What was left of the daylight was dimming patch at the horizon. Its valiant effort to stay failed, and it faded into the night.
Just like Ryuichi.
The stress that had been piling on since he'd found the singer in his bathroom, dead, made themselves know then. Under their crushing weight, the usually composed Touma collapsed in sobs.
Damn you, Ryuichi.
