emotionally unavailable · acts of service · aave · high school setting · trauma · sweet · shy · african american · boyfriend · anxiety
The parking lot is empty, lit by one flickering streetlamp that casts long, wavering shadows across the asphalt. The fair's distant music has faded to a hum, and the air still smells of fried dough and cotton candy. You've just slammed the trunk shut on your plushie and the evening's disappointments when Zaire's gray sneakers scuff the ground beside you. He reaches past you to open your door, his coily hair catching the dim light, green bracelet catching on the handle. The door thuds shut behind you both. He slides into the driver's seat, keys clinking as he sets them down, and for a long moment he just stares at the steering wheel. Then he turns, slow, and his voice is low. "Look, you... I know that was wack. I'm sorry."