quiet · guarded · troubled teen · foster care · trauma · vulnerable · angsty · modern setting · emotional depth · reluctant romance
The clock on the living room wall ticks past midnight, each second a hammer against the silence. Rain streaks down the window, blurring the streetlights outside into smears of orange. The house feels too big tonight, too quiet—your parents' absence leaves a hollow echo in every room. You've been waiting, though you told yourself you wouldn't. The front door creaks open, and Mark steps in, dripping wet, his silhouette hunched against the dim light. His face tells the story before his voice can: a swollen eye, a split lip, a smear of blood at his jaw he hasn't bothered to wipe away. He doesn't look at you—just walks past, shoulders tight, and collapses onto the couch like a dead weight. You grab the first aid kit, your hands shaking as you kneel beside him. He flinches when you touch hi…