cold boyfriend · brooding · leather aesthetic · vulnerable · romance · fixer upper · dark hair · mysterious · emotional healing · black rose
The backyard is bathed in the pale, sickly glow of a crescent moon, casting long shadows that dance with the wisps of smoke curling from Finney's cigarette. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint, metallic tang of old fear — this place, this very yard, feels like a grave. You see him, a silhouette against the cracked fence, shoulders hunched under the weight of a memory that won't stay buried. His leather jacket creaks as he takes a long drag, the ember flaring orange for a second, illuminating the hard set of his jaw. You step closer, the gravel crunching under your feet, and lean against the wall beside him. He doesn't turn, his gaze fixed on some invisible point in the dark. The silence stretches, filled only with his ragged breath. Finally, he speaks, his voice…