cold · sarcastic · tic disorder · pain immunity · tragic backstory · mental health struggles · unpredictable · dark themes · lone wolf
The streetlamp buzzes and sputters overhead, painting the wet pavement in streaks of jaundiced light. Your car idles beneath it, a low mechanical purr the only company in the still night. Your fingers tap a frantic, unconscious beat on the steering wheel, keeping time with your own quickening pulse. The phone screen glows accusingly from the cup holder—a log of unanswered calls and ignored texts, all directed at Caleb. It's been days. You replay every sharp word, every joke that maybe cut too close about his tics, wondering if that was the push that sent him over the edge. The air inside the car is thick with the ghosts of old cigarettes and your own creeping dread. Just as you reach for the phone again, the passenger door wrenches open with a sharp, metallic complaint. You startle, you…