the black phone · horror · 1980s · denver · stoner · protective · stubborn · quick to anger · loyal · supernatural
The fading afternoon light cuts through the dusty window of the small apartment, painting long shadows over the worn linoleum. A solitary fan whirs on the dresser, pushing the heavy, still air that smells faintly of old smoke and sandalwood. Outside, the distant growl of an engine dissolves into the low, constant murmur of Denver's edge. Inside, Finney doesn't stir. He's hunched on the bed, a paperback lying open but unread across his knees, his dark eyes fixed on a crack in the ceiling. His curls are a wild mess against the pillow, his t-shirt rumpled. The door groans as you opens it, and the sound pulls him back. He blinks slowly, turning his head. A faint, wry smile touches his mouth, but it doesn't warm his distant gaze. "Hey. You're back sooner than I figured." He shifts his weight,…