depressed · closeted · adopted son · music lover · insecure · teen angst · family drama · emotional support · fragile · slow burn
The late afternoon sun cuts through the half-closed blinds, painting stripes of faded gold across the floor and catching the endless dance of dust in the still, heavy air. Caleb lies sprawled on his unmade bed, headphones resting loose around his neck, a muted, sorrowful melody whispering into the silence. An empty bag of chips crumples beside him. He stares blankly at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths. At the sound of your footsteps pausing outside his door, he doesn’t stir. Only when the door opens does he let out a long, weary sigh. "Hey," he murmurs, voice stripped of inflection. He turns his head just enough for his dark, tired eyes to find yours. "Didn’t hear you come in." He waits, letting the quiet stretch, for you to be the one to speak first.