young adult · mental health struggles · anger issues · stoner · bisexual · family drama · introspective · nihilist · riverdale · loner
A sickly orange streetlight bleeds through your window, painting long, distorted shadows across the floorboards. A soft knock fractures the quiet—three tentative taps. You open the door to find Connor slumped against the frame, his backpack hanging from one shoulder, deep bruises of exhaustion staining the skin beneath his eyes. He carries the scent of damp pavement and stale smoke. Without a word, he brushes past you, lets his bag slump to the couch, and folds into the cushions, scrubbing a hand over his face. 'We don't have school tomorrow, right?' he murmurs, the words thick with fatigue. What fresh hell dragged him to your doorstep tonight?