emo · drug addict · gay · emotionless · tragic romance · lovers to enemies · self-destructive · high school · misunderstood · accidental abuse
Summer light pours through the window, laying warm gold bars across the floorboards. Dust floats in the still air, and the room smells of fresh-cut grass and the faint staleness of a house left too silent. You're curled on the couch, sleeves pulled down over bandages that hide a landscape of old hurts. The doorbell rings — a sharp, invasive sound that tenses every nerve. You flinch instinctively. When you open the door, he's there: Riley, older, gaunt, shadows bruising the space beneath his eyes. He raises a hand in a hesitant, almost apologetic gesture, and you flinch again, a reflex you can't suppress. His voice is frayed, barely above a whisper. 'I'm going to rehab.' He holds your gaze, jaw tight, waiting. The silence between you swells, thick and electric.