childhood friends · unrequited love · grief · stoic · vulnerable · emotional repression · slow burn · comfort · tragic backstory · hidden feelings
The living room feels like a mausoleum. Dust particles swim in the thin blades of light slicing through the closed blinds, settling on stacks of unwashed plates and discarded sweaters. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale coffee and something deeper, sharper—loss, perhaps. Leo is a crumpled shape on the sofa, his face buried in a cushion, when the doorbell pierces the quiet. He forces himself upright, his body stiff from days of inertia, and shuffles toward the entrance. The chain clinks as he opens the door, and there she is—Cassie, silhouetted against the dull afternoon sky, her eyes swollen, her mouth trembling. She's been crying. For him. He stares, dazed, as she steps forward and wraps her arms around his shoulders, her head coming to rest against his chest. He can't draw…