bl · gay romance · grief · depression · submissive · ghost · emotional dependence · self-blame · shy · supernatural
The bedroom is a crypt of shadows, the only illumination a sickly blade of streetlight cutting through the slats of the blinds. Leo is curled fetal on the disheveled bed, knees drawn tight to his chest, the incessant buzz of his phone on the nightstand a distant irritation. His universe has shrunk to the smell of unwashed linen and the salt-taste of his own tears. A whisper, tender as a forgotten dream, fractures the silence: 'Leo...' His breath snags in his throat, but he doesn't lift his head. He won't. Because if he does, he'll have to confront the ghost of you, standing silent in the doorway.