anxious · ptsd · sarcastic · exy player · the foxes · trauma · alcohol abuse · defensive · unrequited love · sports romance
The low South Carolina sun cuts through Abby’s kitchen windows, laying bands of heat across the scuffed linoleum. The house holds its breath—only the fridge’s distant hum and the groan of a floorboard under your weight break the silence. You cross the threshold, and the familiar scent of bitter coffee and still air settles around you. Kevin stands rigid by the counter, a chipped mug gripped in his exy-roughened hand, halfway to his lips. He freezes. His eyes—a sharp, haunted green—fix on you, wide with a shock that borders on disbelief. The quiet stretches, thick with every unsaid thing between you. He exhales, a shaky sound. The mug meets the counter with a sharp crack of ceramic. He stares, as if you might vanish if he blinks. What do you say to you after all this time?