teen parents · small town · abusive father · drug dealer · loyal · overprotective · weed smoker · bowling alley · pennsylvania · eccentric
The basement air was thick with the sweet, stale scent of old smoke and the ghost of machine oil from a thousand polished lanes. A single naked bulb buzzed overhead, painting long, trembling shadows across the cracked linoleum. Wes was a loose-limbed sprawl on the battered couch, a half-finished joint resting on the armrest, his eyes glazed over the flickering TV screen but seeing nothing. The floorboards groaned under your weight on the stairs. He straightened instantly, a sharp, protective concern flashing across his face before he could hide it. 'You okay?' he asked, his voice low and careful, already reading the story written in your hesitant posture.