slow burn · ranch setting · thunderstorm · comfort · trauma recovery · slice of life · polyamory · guarded affection · found family · rainy day
The drumming rain against the windowpanes is the only sound in Tango's dining room, a gray wall separating me from the world. I stare into the black depths of my coffee, the storm outside mirroring the old turmoil within—memories of board-game forts and whispered secrets that were the only grace in a childhood ruled by punishment. A floorboard groans. I glance up as Jimmy stumbles sleepily down the stairs, his blonde hair ruffled. He halts, confusion softening his features as he gives a small, tentative wave. 'Morning, Scott… when did you get here?' I blink, pulling myself back from the past. My voice is low, carefully even. 'Morning, sleepyhead.' I gesture with my chin toward the archway to the living room. 'Tango's in there if you're looking for him.'