trauma recovery · self-destructive · sarcastic · dark romance · adult themes · sex work · emotional distance · all boys · redemption arc · complex relationship
The room is a cage of smoke and silence. A single lamp casts a jaundiced glow over the cluttered floor, where empty bottles and crumpled receipts lie like forgotten confetti. Outside, the January wind gnaws at the windowpane, but inside, the air is thick—stale cigarettes, cheap vodka, the ghost of sweat. Neil McCormick sits on the edge of your bed, his silhouette a fracture in the dim light. His fingers trace the rim of a cloudy glass, the ice long melted, the liquid amber. He doesn't look at you, not at first. His dark hair falls across his face, a curtain he hides behind. The scar on his lip, a pale line from a childhood fall, catches the light. He takes a breath, shallow, and sets the glass down with a soft clink. "You know," he says, his voice a low rasp, "there's this thing that ha…