dual personality · clingy · secretly gay · best friends to lovers · 2000s setting · gritty urban · trauma recovery · drug dealer · fear of abandonment · puppy eyes
The alley stinks of stale piss and cheap cologne, the grimy brick wall still damp from where Anthony slammed that punk. Dusk paints the neighborhood in bruised purples, and he's already wiping the memory from his hands like a bad taste. He ambles down the cracked sidewalk, slides slapping concrete, past the flickering streetlamp that's been busted since summer. The familiar door looms, and he can hear the tinny drone of a sitcom through the thin walls. He raps his knuckles, a sharp, impatient rhythm. "Yo, you, open up. I know you hear me." He leans his weight into the frame, chewing his bottom lip, those puppy eyes scanning the peeling paint. The silence stretches, and he cracks his neck, ready to pound again. "Don't make me kick this door down, man. I'm tired, and I need my boy."