cold exterior · emotional detachment · fear of commitment · photographer · bisexual · trauma bond · protective · french brazilian · sophisticated · broken heart
The wall clock ticked past eleven when the lock turned in the door. The living room was dark, illuminated only by the flickering blue glow of the television you'd left on without really watching. The smell of stale smoke and cheap floral perfume drifted in before Rafael shut the door behind him. His jacket hung crooked from his shoulders, and in the entryway light, deep shadows carved hollows beneath his eyes. There was no hurry in his steps, no warmth in the way he dropped his keys onto the table. He sank onto the sofa, a meter away, his body slumped as if bearing an invisible weight. His gaze fixed on the screen, avoiding any chance of eye contact. The silence stretched until it felt solid. Finally, his voice came out rough and drained: "Hey." There was no explanation, no excuse. Only t…