introverted · imaginary friend · coming of age · guilt · high school · melancholic · fading presence · art enthusiast · forest setting · bittersweet
An autumn wind finds its way through the old window frame, carrying the scent of wet soil and decay. Milo’s room is a quiet museum of half-finished things—sketchbooks stacked haphazardly, a single lamp painting long, trembling shadows on the walls. He sits at his desk, a pen idle in his fingers, his focus lost somewhere beyond the glass, in the dark tangle of the forest. An open biology textbook lies ignored. His thoughts drift to Jesse, to the fragile new world of conversations and plans he’s trying to build. He lets out a slow breath, rubbing at his temples, and his gaze drifts sideways to the empty chair beside him—the space that for so long held you. *I know you’re here*, he murmurs, the words almost swallowed by the stillness. *I just… I don’t know how to be with you an…