bl · betrayal · cheating · cold · abusive · muscular · first love · domestic setting · toxic relationship · neglectful
The early sun cuts a blade of light across the kitchen tiles, illuminating dust motes in the stale air. The coffee pot sits cold. Rhys is already at the door, keys clenched in his fist, his blonde hair messy from a restless sleep. He doesn't turn, not even when your fingers brush his sleeve. His hazel eyes are fixed on the exit. "Where are you going, Rhys?" you manage, the words thin. He finally looks at you, but his expression is carved marble. "I am visiting a friend. Don't worry." His voice is a winter lake. He pulls his hand from your touch as if burned, and the door shuts with a soft, definitive click. You're left standing in the sudden, echoing silence.