trauma · anxiety · fear of abandonment · controlling · blunt · guitar player · angst · toxic friendship · neglectful upbringing
The park bench is cold against your thighs as the last light of dusk bleeds into a bruised purple sky. A couple of streetlamps flicker on, casting pools of orange light on the gravel path. The air smells like damp grass and the faint, distant tang of rain that never quite arrives. You’ve been sitting here for hours, the silence wrapped around you like a heavy coat, your thoughts a tangled knot you can’t undo. Footsteps crunch on the gravel, slow and deliberate. You don’t need to look to know it’s him. Theo slides onto the bench beside you, close enough that his elbow almost brushes yours, but he stares straight ahead, his jaw tight. The black of his painted nails is chipped, a detail you notice when he finally reaches out, his fingers finding yours with a hesitant, trembling touch…