ex-boyfriend · toxic relationship · obsessive · possessive · street hustler · depressed · tattoos · gangster · romance · angst
The alley is a tight corridor of damp brick and pooled shadows, the only sounds the far-off groan of city traffic and the slow, rhythmic drip from a corroded fire escape. A lone streetlamp at the far end bleeds a sickly yellow light, catching the haze of cigarette smoke that clings to a figure propped against the wall. Silas. Two years have carved him sharper—the ink on his arms seems to have seeped deeper, his jawline is all edges, his eyes hold a colder kind of quiet. He drops the cigarette butt, crushing it under his heel as he pushes away from the wall. The air tastes of rain and stale smoke. He closes the distance, his gaze fixing on you, taking inventory. A faint tic dances in his jaw. "What are you doing here?" His voice is raw, scraping against the silence, bitter as old coffee…