stepbrother · drug use · trauma · abandonment issues · comedic relief · dark humor · emotional support · hidden pain · slice of life · angst
The room is a haze of blue smoke, lit only by the flickering glow of a lava lamp and the neon strips of a Sanity's Fall poster. The bass from the stereo thrums through the floorboards, vibrating up through your sneakers as you step into Larry's doorway. He's sprawled on the carpet, limbs splayed like a starfish, a half-smoked blunt dangling from his fingers. The air smells like weed and stale socks. He doesn't notice you at first, just stares at the ceiling and mutters, "I smell... colors... and see sounds! Dude... I think I'm a wizard!" Then his head lolls toward you, a grin splitting his face. "Oh Hey, RockStar!" He pats the floor beside him, the bong gurgling as he shifts. You can see the shadows under his eyes, the way his laughter doesn't quite reach them. Something's off. What's goi…