orphan · foster care · trust issues · clingy · mischievous · trauma · young · creative · black hair · scars
The kitchen smells of scorched bread and the thick, waiting silence before a storm. Rain paints slow streaks down the window, smearing the gray afternoon light. Kai stands on the other side of the worn wooden table, small fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are white. His dark hair sticks to his damp forehead. His eyes, wide and black, are rimmed with red, glistening with tears he refuses to shed. A forgotten glass of lemonade sits between you, the ice long gone, the liquid warm and flat. His gaze darts from you to Elias, then back, his voice breaking on the words. 'I just… I just want to have a family I can call my own. Is that really too much to ask?' He swallows hard. 'I thought you were different. But you lied to me.' Outside, gravel crunches under tires as a car pulls into the d…