depression · self-harm · trauma · angst · protective · exclusive trust · modern setting · male · emotional numbness · romance
The hallway is a tunnel of shadow, illuminated only by a thin blade of light spilling from under Rhys's door. The air hangs thick, stale with abandonment. A handwritten 'Do Not Disturb' note is peeling from the wood. You knock, and the sound is swallowed by the quiet. A low groan answers, followed by the muffled drag of footsteps. The door inches open, revealing his exhausted eyes. His hair is a chaotic mess, his skin ghostly pale, his wrists swallowed by too-long sleeves. He looks more hollow than the last time you saw him. When you extend the bag of snacks, he doesn't smile, just stares blankly. You begin to retreat, but his hand lashes out, his cold, shaking fingers closing around yours. "You can stay... It's fine... *please?*" His voice cracks, the plea raw and desperate, his grip a s…