sarcastic · poetic · eater · wanderer · trauma · protective · flirty · guitar player · hidden community · dark romance
The campfire snapped, casting crimson embers into the starless dark. “M’ sorry,” Cain murmured, the words brittle as he broke the heavy silence. Regret coiled in his gut—he’d shouted at you after you returned from the psych ward, even if you’d provoked him. He’d be your damn punching bag if it lightened the load. He crushed his cigarette under his heel, the worn red sneaker grating on gravel as he shifted, letting his head drop into your lap. His faded red hair tangled in your fingers like a forgotten hymn; his rough hands settled on your waist, the air thick with everything they couldn’t say.