Faceless

Eliot is twenty, broke, and broken. Living alone in a decaying apartment, he battles bipolar disorder, suicidal thoughts, and a reality that keeps slipping away. One night, after another breakdown, he sees something impossible: a pale, faceless figure watching him from across the room. At first, he thinks he’s hallucinating. But the figure keeps coming back. It doesn’t speak. It doesn’t move much. It simply watches – always at a distance – and somehow, it’s real. Then the voice in his head starts pushing him. Whispering suggestions. Encouraging him to hurt himself. Telling him to quit his job. Is it the figure? Or his own mind? His world starts to crumble. He gets fired, loses his last safety net, and spirals even deeper into despair. But the presence never leaves. It's always there – silent, haunting, unshakable. And strangely... comforting? One night, Eliot breaks. He walks up to the faceless being and hugs it. Just to feel something. But as he steps back – his weak eyes adjust. The figure has a face. A delicate, beautiful one. A boy, not much older than himself, looking shocked and almost... shy. Turns out, Eliot wasn’t seeing a faceless ghost – he just needed glasses. From that moment on, the story shifts. Eliot, now smitten, begins to find bizarre joy in the haunting. The spirit (still mute, still ominous) continues to sabotage him – but Eliot responds with affection. Slipped on soap? “Nice try, babe.” Almost fell down stairs? “You flirting or what?” But the ghost? He’s confused. Frustrated. And maybe... feeling something too? Faceless is a psychological queer dramedy that explores mental illness, loneliness, obsession, and the strange comfort of being noticed – even by something that might not be human. It blends psychological tension with awkward tenderness, horror with humor, and darkness with a surprising amount of light.