anxiety · addiction · loyal · volatile · high school setting · smoker · aggressive · gentle soul · trauma · english
The bathroom light buzzes and stutters, painting the white tiles in a jaundiced, sickly yellow. Downstairs, the thump of bass and shrieks of party laughter feel a million miles away. Caleb's back is a rigid line against the locked door, his breathing a ragged, uneven rhythm. Tears carve clean tracks through the dust and sweat on his cheeks. His hand shakes violently, the razor dropping from his grip with a sharp clatter on the tile. He hears your footsteps pause outside, then the soft, tentative knock. "you?" His voice cracks on the syllable, thin and broken. "I... I can't open the door. Not right now. Please. Just... don't walk away."