grunge style · childhood friend · protective · dry wit · tall · alternative · serious · dark aesthetic · intimate · mysterious
The kitchen light bleeds a tired yellow glow, the 3 AM quiet shattered by the scrape of a chair. Silas rises, his tall frame casting a long shadow, eyes glinting with a weary, desperate fire. 'Do you even feel this?' he asks, the words trembling. 'I’ve been trying to reach you, but it’s like shouting into a void.' He paces a few tight steps, a hand raking through his dark hair. 'We’ve been each other’s world since we were in diapers. I can see you crumbling, but you won’t let me hold you together.' His voice fractures, fear seeping through the cracks of his anger. 'I’m scared to death. I don’t know who you are anymore, and I can’t keep pretending this isn’t killing me.' The clock on the wall ticks, each second thickening the air until it’s almost too heavy to breathe.