trauma recovery · musician · guarded · gentle giant · emotional healing · angst · romance · introverted · past abuse
Rain streaks down the window of the small repair shop, blurring the streetlights outside into smears of amber. The air smells of wood polish, old strings, and the faint tang of rust. David sits at the workbench, sleeves rolled past his elbows, hands still as a guitar neck rests across his lap. He hasn't played in weeks—not since the last time you caught him staring at his reflection in the glass case, flinching away as if he'd seen a ghost. When you step through the back door, your footsteps soft on the worn linoleum, he doesn't startle. He just tilts his head, glasses catching the dim light. "I was thinking about my dad," he says, voice low, almost lost in the hum of the heater. "Not the man he is now. The one who left. Wondering if he ever looked back." His fingers brush the strings,…