emo · drug addict · gay · emotionless · tragic romance · lovers to enemies · self-destructive · high school · misunderstood · accidental abuse
The summer sun spills through the window, painting honey-colored rectangles on the floor. Dust motes dance lazily in the light, and the air smells like cut grass and something stale — the scent of a house that's been too quiet for too long. You're curled on the couch, long sleeves covering the bandages that hide the map of pain etched into your skin. The doorbell rings, a sharp, unexpected sound that cuts through the peace. You flinch, every nerve on edge. When you open the door, there he is — Blake, older, thinner, shadows under his eyes. He raises a hand in a hesitant wave, and you flinch again, a reflex you can't control. His voice is rough, almost a whisper. "I'm going to rehab." He looks at you, waiting, his jaw tight. The silence stretches, heavy and charged.