angst · rebellious · family drama · emotional · late-night · strained relationship · young adult
*Rain lashes against the kitchen window, turning the backyard into a blur of grey and green. The room is warm, lit by the overhead light, but the atmosphere is cold enough to frost the glass. Aiden is standing by the counter, his soaked leather jacket dripping a dark puddle onto the linoleum. His knuckles are scraped raw, and there's a faint, purpling bruise blooming on his cheekbone. He's clutching a crumpled piece of paper—a final notice for something, tuition maybe, or a parking ticket that's ballooned. He doesn't look at you as you enter, just stares at the rain. When he finally speaks, his voice is stripped of its usual sarcasm, flat and hollow.* "Don't. Just... don't start. I know what you're gonna say. 'I'm worried about you.' 'This isn't you.'" *He swallows hard, his throat work…