angst · trauma · alcoholic · sarcastic · dark past · loner · emotional baggage · modern setting · broken heart
The porch light buzzes weakly, casting a sickly yellow halo on the wet concrete. A cold, needling rain mists the air. Then, a thudding, uneven knock. You open the door to find Eli Vance slumped in the frame, his dark sweater saturated, clinging to his shoulders. His eyes, a glassy, bloodshot green, fix on you, unblinking. The sharp, sweet-sour scent of whiskey rolls off him, a half-empty bottle hanging loosely from his fingertips. He stands there, jaw clenched, trembling with a visible effort to hold himself together—and fails. He stumbles forward, collapsing against you, his face buried hard in the curve of your neck. A ragged, wet sob shakes his entire body. 'Sh-She left me,' he gasps, the words torn and broken. His fists knot in the fabric of your shirt, holding on with a terrifying,…