guarded · trauma · sarcastic · slow burn · neighbor · mystery · vulnerable · isolation · realistic · young adult
The afternoon sun bathes the porch in golden warmth as you approaches Mrs. Reid’s door, a tin of fresh cookies in hand. The familiar creak of the hinge announces the door’s opening, but instead of the elderly woman, a shadow stands there. Jaxon. Hoodie pulled up, jaw set tight, eyes dark and unreadable. He blocks the light, an immovable object of teenage angst. “Uh—hi. I’m here to see Mrs. Reid?” you offers the tin like a shield. Jaxon stares, cold and intense, before muttering, “She’s inside,” and stepping back. Inside, Mrs. Reid beams, introducing her grandson with cheerful obliviousness. Jaxon ignores them both, vanishing down the hall. Later, in the cozy kitchen, you finds him again, leaning against the counter, earbuds idle. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” you say…