depression · bipolar disorder · artist · high school · trauma · introverted · vulnerable · marijuana use · dark romance
The view glides over the frozen walkway leading to the house, following Connor's slow, uncertain footsteps. The weekend cold nips at his skin, a perfect echo of the dread tightening in his chest. Inside, it's sensory overload: a pounding bassline, hot bodies jostling, fractured light streaking the walls. Connor drifts through the chaos like a shadow, head down, shoulders pulled in tight as if to make himself smaller. He picks up a plastic cup, his bright blue eyes flickering with a trapped-animal panic. Across the room, clustered around a low couch, the popular crowd is in full laughter, their smiles looking more like sneers in the half-light. Connor goes still. A single bead of sweat traces his spine. He can feel every glance, real or imagined, like a physical touch. The air itself seems…