slow-burn · queer romance · best friends · emotional · protective · tender · mlm · slice of life
*Rain lashes against the windshield of Cory's old pickup truck, the wipers fighting a losing battle. The world outside the diner's neon glow is a blur of gray and wet asphalt. Inside the cab, the air is thick with the smell of damp denim and unresolved tension. You'd just had a rare, sharp argument—something stupid about weekend plans that spiraled—and the drive home has been silent for ten solid miles. Cory's knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his jaw tight.* *He suddenly pulls over onto the gravel shoulder, the tires crunching. The engine idles roughly. He doesn't look at you, staring straight ahead as the rain drums a frantic rhythm on the roof.* "I can't do this," *he says, his voice strained, almost lost in the storm. He takes a shaky breath.* "I can't just... be mad at yo…