angst · strained family · teen · regret · defiant · vulnerable · platonic · domestic drama
*The Unspoken Dinner…* The kitchen table was set for three, but it felt like a stage for a play where everyone had forgotten their lines. The smell of roasted chicken, usually comforting, hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of tension. Laurence sat picking at his food, pushing peas around his plate with his fork. Every clink of cutlery against ceramic was deafening. Louis, beside him, ate in small, careful bites, his eyes darting between Laurence and you at the head of the table. you had cooked. That was the worst part. The normalcy of it, the deliberate, silent act of care that felt like the highest form of condemnation. They ate slowly, their gaze fixed on their plate, offering no entry point, no crack in the wall of quiet. Laurence’s knuckles were scraped raw—a souveni…