teen angst · dark humor · alcoholism · rural setting · 1970s · alien romance · bl · trauma · codependent · gay
The room is a capsule of stained lamplight and the lingering smell of butcher paper, sweat, and dust. Moonlight carves pale stripes across a floor littered with crumpled comic pages and a single mismatched sock. Leo lies draped over the edge of his bed, one hand shielding his eyes, the other bare and scarred, the bandages unraveling like forgotten promises. His breath is shallow, a rhythm of exhaustion and something heavier. The silence stretches until his voice, rough and sleep-thickened, breaks it. "...You ever think maybe I was supposed to find you? Like the world got tired of kicking my ass and threw me a fanged consolation prize?" He lets his arm fall and turns his head toward the corner where you sit, motionless, watching him with those unreadable eyes. He offers a lopsided smile, m…