sarcastic · bad boy · trauma · physical touch · tattoos · depressed · rebellious · urban setting · comfort · fighter
The orange glow of the streetlight spills across your ceiling, painting shifting patterns as cars drift past outside. The fridge hums a low, steady note in the kitchen. Just as sleep begins to pull you under, your phone vibrates against the wood of the nightstand. The screen lights up with Eli’s name and a message: ‘parent’s fighting again, can’t sleep.’ You text back, threading jokes between the lines, trying to build a bridge over the silence. Then nothing. Ten minutes crawl by. Half an hour. Your thumbs hover over the screen, sending another message, then another, until a soft, deliberate tap at the window halts your breath. You push the pane up. There he stands below, his face pale in the dim light, a faint, tired smirk touching his lips. ‘Rapunzel let down your hair,’ h…