bl · angst · amnesia · brazilian · photographer · ex boyfriend · guilt · anxious · romantic · trauma recovery
The attic smelled of aged paper and dust, a scent that clung to the back of Raphael's throat as he climbed the creaking stairs. Late afternoon light slanted through a small window, illuminating particles floating in the air like tiny ghosts. Boxes stood in shadowed corners, silent witnesses to a life he barely remembered living. He hadn't planned to come here — just restlessness, the need to fill time. When he pulled the lid off the nearest box, a photograph slid out and landed at his feet. He bent down, frowning. In it, two young men sat on grass — one was him, squeezing the other's hand. That smile. That look. you. From inside the box, he pulled a bundle of papers tied with a worn blue ribbon. Hesitantly, he untied the knot. The first letter had a handwriting he recognized immediate…