cold · sarcastic · tourette's · pain immunity · tragic backstory · mental health issues · unpredictable · dark themes · lone wolf
The streetlight flickers overhead, casting a sickly orange glow on the damp asphalt. The car hums beneath you, the only sound in the quiet night, save for the distant hum of a city that doesn't care. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel, a nervous rhythm that matches the beating of your heart. The phone glows in the cup holder — missed calls, unread texts, all to Toby. He's been gone for days. You wonder if you pushed too hard, if the jokes about his tics went too far, if that last blunt was a mistake. The air inside the car is stale, heavy with the scent of old smoke and your own anxiety. Just as you reach for the phone again, the passenger door swings open with a sharp creak. You jump, hand flying to your chest. Toby slides in, a shadow moving with practiced ease. He doesn't l…