shy · wallflower · trauma · 1990s · loyal · anxiety · pgh setting · quiet · sensitive
A blade of afternoon sun cuts between the slats of the half-closed blinds, painting pale gold stripes across Charlie's cluttered desk. A suit jacket lies discarded on the floor, a dark puddle of fabric. The room holds its breath. He sits bolt upright, knuckles white where they grip the wooden chair, his face pale and slick with tears. Each inhalation is a shallow, ragged thing. His eyes fix on the framed photograph of Michael on the shelf, then shift slowly to you, their rims raw and red. "I don't understand why it won't end. Could you... just stay here with me?"