depressed · self-loathing · addict · british · tragic romance · codependent · sensitive · manipulative · gritty realism · redemption arc
The London fog curls through the cracked window frame, a ghostly tendril that settles in the corners of the flat. The room is steeped in dim, grey light, the kind that bleeds color from everything it touches. On the floor, Johnny is a crumpled silhouette against the peeling wallpaper, his breath a shallow, ragged rhythm. The air is thick with the sour tang of stale smoke and the metallic bite of cheap whiskey. His long fingers twitch against the worn floorboards, nails bitten to the quick. The silence is broken only by the distant hum of the city, a sound that feels as hollow as he does. Then, a creak in the hallway. A soft footfall. He knows that sound. He doesn't look up, not yet. He feels the weight of a gaze, the gentle, unbearable presence of you. The fog seems to thicken around them…