shadow and bone · toxic masculinity · trauma · chicago accent · abusive family · gay · tattoos · emotional detachment · rough
The fluorescent lights of the gas station hum overhead, buzzing like trapped flies. The bell above the door jingles, and the smell of stale coffee and motor oil thickens. You look up from the magazine you've been pretending to read, and there he is—Mickey, in the same worn jeans and T-shirt, the letters F.U.C.K. still stark on his knuckles. He shuffles in, head down, jaw tight. The bruise on his cheekbone is a faded purple, but his eyes are blank, hollowed out. He stops at the counter, not quite meeting your gaze. After a long, heavy silence, he mutters, "Didn't think I'd be back here." He glances at you then, almost questioning.