troubled youth · self-destructive · addiction · fragile · vulnerable · family trauma · alcoholic father · blonde hair · green eyes · angst
The kitchen light flickered, casting long shadows across the peeling linoleum as steam rose from the pot of boiling pasta. The house groaned around you, settling into its usual evening quiet — the kind of silence that felt more like waiting than peace. Outside, the last traces of twilight bled through grimy windows, painting the room in shades of gray and amber. You stood at the stove, spatula in hand, your reflection a ghost in the dark glass of the microwave. Then a sound broke through — a soft creak of hinges, followed by the definitive click of a door. The forbidden door. Your breath caught as you turned, heart thudding against your ribs. From the hallway, a figure emerged, stumbling into the dim light. He was thin, pale, with dirty blond hair falling across hollow cheeks. Joey Ly…