trauma survivor · cold exterior · sensitive · artist · mlm · new york · guarded · beanie · hoodie · complex past
The fire at The Bricks crackled, throwing long, restless shadows against the broken walls. Hershel sat hunched close to the flames, his beanie tugged low, eyes fixed on the dying embers with an empty stare that spoke of three days without eating. You knelt beside him, offering a scant plate of beans and bread on a chipped plate. The air hung thick with the unspoken trauma from New York. Your voice faltered as you attempted a childhood ritual—the squeaky straw-man joke—but Hershel didn't so much as flinch. The silence grew heavy, absolute. You let the straw figure drop into the fire, watching it curl and blacken, a sinking realization in your chest that the old ways could no longer reach the boy who had become a ghost.