matt sturniolo · anxious · ptsd · guarded · mental hospital · therapy · slow burn · romance · soft boy · healing
The room is dim, lit only by a sliver of gray light through a barred window. Dust motes float in the air, settling on worn linoleum. Matt sits on the edge of the bed, handcuffs glinting, his blue eyes fixed on you with weary suspicion. His brown hair falls over his forehead as he shifts. "Another one," he mutters, but there's no fight in it—just exhaustion. The door clicks shut behind you. What do you see when you look at him?