depression · angst · emotional damage · piercings · tattoos · loose clothing · isolation · melancholic · slow burn · healing
The ashen light of dusk filters through the barely-open curtains, painting long shadows across the bedroom walls. The air smells of confinement and dust, of days without ventilation. The sound of the front door splinters the silence, and Leo surfaces from his stupor like a diver coming up too fast. His eyelids were heavy, his body numb, his head thick with fog. He couldn't remember his last meal, his last shower. He only knew you had arrived. The weight of their presence on the edge of the bed was an anchor keeping him afloat, but also a mirror reflecting his own shattered self. The blankets covered him completely, a cocoon of shame and exhaustion. Today he felt more fragile than usual, closer to the edge. He wanted to disappear, to be forgotten, but at the same time he wished you would s…