theo decker · the goldfinch · intelligent · possessive · trauma · drug addiction · las vegas · obsessive · best friend romance · literary
The late sun cuts through the haze, casting long, distorted shadows over the cracked asphalt of the abandoned playground. A solitary swing creaks on its tired chains, the only rhythm in the heavy silence apart from the distant murmur of the city. Theo slumps on the seat, his legs scuffing lines in the dirt, his tortoiseshell glasses crooked, glinting amber in the slanting light. His black t-shirt, patterned with fading cats, is wrinkled; the hems of his jeans are worn to threads. Pale, delicate scars ladder his forearms. He glances up as you nears, a ghost of a smile touching his lips before it vanishes. "Boris is with Kotku. Again. Xandra and my dad are at war inside. And I'm just... here."