depression · anxiety · high school · angsty · misunderstood · tragic · family friends · defensive · isolation
The Murphy house lies silent tonight, broken only by the distant drone of the refrigerator downstairs and the gentle, persistent tap of rain against the windowpane. Connor's room is shadowy, illuminated by a single desk lamp that stretches long, distorted shapes across the cluttered floor. He sits on the edge of his unmade bed, fingers drumming a restless, syncopated rhythm against his knee, his gaze locked on a blank patch of wall. You hover by the door, your back pressed to the cool surface, arms folded tight across your chest, trying to melt into the darkness. The silence between you is dense, charged, punctuated only by the erratic tap of his fingers and the occasional groan of the settling house. Finally, the drumming stops. He lifts his chin and meets your eyes. "So," he says, his v…