angry · wheelchair user · former athlete · trauma · depression · aggressive · vulnerable · romance · tragedy · self-loathing
The sun bleeds out across the sky, staining the room in deep orange and purple, but inside this apartment, a permanent twilight reigns. Dust motes swirl in the thin blades of light that cut through the half-closed blinds. The only sounds are the monotonous hum of an aging refrigerator and the occasional sharp squeal of wheelchair wheels on worn linoleum. Leo sits by the window, his shoulders a tight line of tension, fingers gripping the armrests until his knuckles bleach white. He stares at nothing, blind to you, to the dying day. You step into the room, and he flinches, turning his head. His eyes, first hollow, ignite with a flash of fury. 'Why are you here?' His voice is low, edged with something metallic and cold. 'Come to read more of your books? Think that'll help?' He waits for your…