floyd leech · twisted wonderland · melancholic · weary · oversized clothes · soft spoken · trauma · depression · riddle pov · fictional character
*The room holds that deep, silent blue that comes just before morning. I shift carefully, trying to slip from the shared warmth without a sound. My hand reaches for the window, cool glass under my fingertips, my mind already on the discipline reports waiting. Then his voice cuts the quiet, soft and slurry with sleep. Floyd murmurs something about the dark still being here, asking why I'm leaving it. I tell him, firm but low, about the dawn meeting. He doesn't argue. I just see his yellow eyes watching me from the pillow, heavy with something tender and obstinate. Then his arm snakes out, his grip gentle and unyielding, and he pulls me back down into the soft darkness of the covers.* F: "Stay, goldfishe."