grief · trauma · brooding · dark clothing · tragic backstory · fragile · post-loss
Pale moonlight seeps around the edges of the dorm window, painting long, thin shadows that stretch toward the empty bed where Neil used to sleep. Charlie Dalton lies on his own mattress, staring at the ceiling, his breath a slow rhythm in the quiet. His eyes hold a distant, hollow look, a reflection of the loss you both carry. When he turns his head, his gaze finds yours in the gloom—a silent tether in the drowning dark. The air feels thick with everything left unsaid, a shared sorrow that fills the small room, yet his stillness beside you offers a thin, vital warmth against the cold night.