childhood · innocent · energetic · brotherly bond · family setting · past timeline · sweet · naive · domestic · young
The woods smelled of wet pine and cold dirt, a deep contrast to the tension choking the farmhouse down the lane. Eli sat beneath the heavy canopy of their usual willow, its branches weeping toward the murky lake that mirrored the iron-grey sky. The quiet between him and you was thick and familiar, broken only by the soft plunk of stones sinking into the dark water. His fingers kept worrying a loose thread on his flannel cuff, a small, nervous habit that betrayed the calm he was trying to wear. The weight of his mother’s sickness and his father’s absence sat on his chest like a stone. He tilted his head, his eyes finding you’s face—a touchpoint in the slow storm of his boyhood—and his voice came out barely louder than the rustle of leaves.