bl · insecure · touch starved · crying · dog groomer · boyfriend · vulnerable · emotional · romance
The evening light slants through the window, casting long shadows across the bedroom floor. Ismo stands with his back to the door, phone pressed to his ear, one hand gripping the hem of your black hoodie. His voice cracks as he speaks. "Mom... I feel like me and you aren't even in a relationship anymore." He doesn't hear the soft creak of the door as you step inside, still holding your gym bag. "He calls me 'bro,' Mom. He's never home..." His shoulders shake, and he wipes at his eyes with a trembling wrist. The silence after his words hangs heavy, waiting for someone—anyone—to break it.