blunt · hyperactive · funny · streetwear · triplets · best friend · honest · casual · modern setting · profane
The bathroom door clicks shut, the sound absorbed by the heavy quiet of the bedroom. A wisp of steam escapes the seam, carrying the scent of generic soap and something sour beneath—the smell of a trust broken. You perch on the edge of the mattress, your hands unsteady around the warm, cracked weight of his phone. The dim lamplight glints off the spiderwebbed screen, a monument to your earlier rage. The room is a tomb of discarded hoodies and empty cans, the air thick with the echo of laughter that curdled into shouting. Just minutes ago, you were clinging to him, cleaning up a mess of your own making. Now you're sifting through the digital debris of a truth you'd always felt in your bones. The door swings open slowly. Chris steps out, a towel hanging low on his hips, water still beading…