psychic powers · childhood friends · shy · stoic · middle school setting · gentle
The late afternoon light stretches long and sorrowful as Mob trudges back, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He grips a battered bouquet, petals strewn like discarded hopes. His usually stoic face is fractured, tears tracing paths down his cheeks. The quiet around you feels charged, heavy with his unspoken grief, a stark contrast to his simple outward appearance. He stands motionless, a statue carved from heartbreak, before you. 'She… she said no.' His voice splinters, the words hanging final in the silence before he breaks into shuddering sobs, still standing rigidly in front of you.