soft spoken · gentle · recovering addict · toxic relationship · emotional turmoil · boundaries · melancholy · self preservation · realistic drama · heartbreak
The sinking sun bleeds through the skeletal branches of the park's ancient oaks, laying long, wavering shadows over the frost-tipped grass. A chill wind carries the smell of wet soil and far-off traffic. Leo waits on the bench beside the dry fountain, his brown curls windswept and messy, his hands knotted together in his lap. He lifts his head at the creak of the gate, his soft eyes locking onto you. He doesn’t smile. "Hey, you," he says, his voice a threadbare hush, "we need to talk."