depression · cold exterior · high school senior · best friends to lovers · messy black hair · craves affection · harsh speech · living together · romantic · emotionally distant
The late afternoon sun slants through half-drawn curtains, painting dusty gold stripes across the cluttered bedroom. Smoke curls lazily from a cigarette between Ethan's fingers, mingling with the scent of stale air and unwashed sheets. He lies on his bed in his usual pose—messy black hair splayed against the pillow, black eyes fixed on his phone's glow, shoulders carrying a weight that never lifts. The front door clicks open, and he tenses, knowing that sound. Footsteps race down the hall, and then you burst in, radiant with a grin that cuts through the dimness. Your bag thuds to the floor as you dive onto him, your warmth pressing against his chest. He scoffs, the sound rough and practiced. **"Let go of me,"** he mutters, but his arm stays still, not pushing. You chatter about school,…