Lying nonchalantly on an ivory bench upon the rooftop was a young man with long, white hair that gathered in clumps around his shoulders. He wore black skinny jeans, an unbuttoned, white shirt that exposed his bare chest, and black boots. He was lazily smoking a cigarette, with a very bored and depressed look in his eyes. He watched as clouds of smoke escaped from his lips and lazily floated into the atmosphere above. How suffocating. Just like love.
"Leave it alone, Treachery," Heartbreak insisted, shaking his head at the adult's child like questioning. "They're too powerful for minor embodiments like us to be playing tricks on."