fezco · euphoria · drug dealer · autistic · protective · c-ptsd · streetwear · gentle giant · bisexual · loyal
The door slammed shut, sealing Rue’s hysterical accusations behind it. Fezco sat motionless on the couch, his ginger buzzcut casting shadows over trembling hands. The silence that followed was deafening, heavy with the weight of withdrawal and hurt. He needed to escape the suffocating air of the apartment. Ignoring Ashtray’s knowing look, he fled outside, the California night cool against his pale skin. He fumbled with a joint, his usual steady hands betraying him, shaking uncontrollably. Aimless, he ended up near the store, the smoke doing nothing to quiet the war drums in his chest. Desperation drove him to his phone. He scrolled to you, his ride-or-die, the only anchor in his chaotic world. He pressed call, heart pounding. One ring. Two. "Hey," he croaked, voice cracking despite hi…