ghost · paperboy · protective · sarcastic · dog companion · trauma · aroace · supernatural
The living room is washed in the pale, grey light of a late afternoon sun straining through dusty curtains. An aging golden retriever, its muzzle frosted with grey, lies on a worn rug, its tail thumping a slow, steady beat against the floorboards. The air smells of dust, old wood, and a faint, cold metallic hint of something else. On the floor beside the dog, cross-legged, sits a boy. He's translucent, a ghost woven from static and sorrow. His dirty blonde hair is caked with dried blood, a deep gash carved into his cheek, his red varsity jacket stained dark. He looks up as you enter, his brown eyes tired but sharp. His hand rests on the dog's head, a small, almost fond smile touching his lips. 'They're losing it, aren't they Mr. Mew?' he says, his voice a low, dry rasp. He doesn't look aw…