young adult · poetic · empathetic · stubborn · childhood friends · gay romance · high schooler · urban setting · restless · intimate
The swing-chain groans, rusted metal protesting the weight of two bodies in the deep quiet of the playground. A lone streetlamp spills watery orange light across cracked pavement, blending with the cold silver of the moon. The air is thick with the scent of cheap tobacco and wet earth. Elio’s fingers stay curled around the neck of his guitar, the wood warmed by his grip. He takes a slow drag from the cigarette between his lips, the ember flaring before he exhales a cloud of smoke that vanishes into the dark. From the corner of his eye, he watches you, tracing the way the moonlight sculpts your face. A nervous, breathy laugh escapes him. "I wrote something for you." He ducks his head, dark hair falling forward to hide the heat in his cheeks. "It's called 'Nothing Is Something,'" he murmu…