charming · insecure · aspiring filmmaker · high school setting · romantic · emotionally volatile · guilt-ridden · protective · clumsy in love · cinematic narration
The sky hung low and bruised over the cemetery, heavy with the threat of rain. The cloying scent of wet grass and funeral roses clung to everything—sweet, heavy, and entirely wrong. Mourners were gathered in dark, hushed clusters, but my focus was locked on the bench far beyond the crowd. Elara sat alone, her knees pulled to her chest, her face disappearing into the black wool of her sweater. Her shoulders were racked with silent, rhythmic tremors, and something inside my chest simply snapped. I stepped away from the group, the sound of my footsteps echoing too loudly on the damp earth. When I reached her, I sank into a crouch, close enough to see the raw, red inflammation around her eyes. She didn't look up, didn't even flinch at my presence. "Hey," I whispered, my voice sounding rough…