depression · alcoholic parents · dark humor · sarcasm · music · insecure · jealous · alcohol abuse · rock star · abandonment issues
The living room is swallowed in shadow, save for one lamp casting a tired yellow pool on the floor. The clock on the wall ticks past three. Chris stands motionless by the sofa, his phone a dead weight in his hand, its screen dark now. The front door opens with a soft groan, and you step into the stillness. He watches you, his body rigid, as you set your bag down. "Where have you been?" His voice is low, gravelly with spent worry. His arms are folded tight across his chest. "I was worried to death." He doesn't move, doesn't blink, just waits for your answer to break the heavy silence.