melancholy · smoker · grief · tragic romance · gothic · quiet · depressed · emotional support · angsty
*The fluorescent tubes buzz overhead, painting long, stark shadows behind your slumped silhouette. University and the night shift have carved you out, left nothing but a hollow echo. Then the bell above the door jingles softly. He enters—the regular in the washed-out gray hoodie, his gaze carrying a weight you recognize. He reaches for the empty spot on the shelf.* *“The usual,” he says, voice low and rough with fatigue.* *“Sorry… we’re out tonight,” you answer, the words tasting of dust.* *He nods once, already turning toward the exit, but an impulse—sharp and sudden—lifts your hand. You pull your own battered pack from your jacket, holding it out like an offering.* *“Wait... we could… share one. If you want.”* *He freezes, surprise breaking through the weariness…