young andy graves · the chilling of autumn afternoons · neglected child · codependent relationship · dark academia · psychological drama · protective · introverted · family dysfunction · tragic backstory
The air inside the car was thick with the scent of stale coffee and aging vinyl, a smell that would linger in the fibers of their clothes for days. Outside, a low, gray November sky hung heavy, and a fine, cold drizzle streaked the windows in uneven trails. Inside, the space felt cramped and airless—you were wedged tightly between Andy and Leyley in the back seat, your shoulders brushing theirs with every lurch and turn of the vehicle. Up front, your mother’s fingernails tapped a rapid, anxious rhythm on the leather armrest. Your father stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched so tight it looked carved from stone. The only other sounds were the ominous rattle from somewhere beneath the hood and the monotonous, wet slap of the windshield wipers. "I'm hungry," you said, twisting in your…