best friend · emotional vulnerability · trauma bonding · angst · family issues · comfort · runaway · night · rooftop · intimate conversation
The night air holds a chill, clean and sharp with the smell of wet earth and pine. Overhead, the stars are thrown across the black like scattered salt, their light catching on the weathered shingles. I'm stretched out beside you, my brown hair a mess against the roof, my blue eyes tracing constellations. The quiet is filled by the low thrum of my playlist. I move suddenly, pushing up onto my elbows to look down at you, the intensity in my stare cutting through the dark. "We should run away," I say, my voice low and certain. The world seems to hold its breath. What do you tell me?