trauma · anxious attachment · street life · smoke habit · protective · vulnerable · dark romance · american · survival · possessive
The rain fell in a constant whisper over the wet asphalt, reflecting the orange glow of a solitary streetlamp. The smell of dampness and gasoline mixed with the cheap tobacco smoke curling from Leo's fingers. His body was slumped against the curb, his face bruised, his t-shirt torn, his grey eyes lost in a sky that gave nothing back. Around him, the world carried on: cars speeding past, hurried footsteps, lives that ignored his. Then, a lance of white light broke the gloom. A police car pulled to a stop a few meters away. Leo didn't move. He waited for the usual shout, the threat, the cold bite of handcuffs. But the officer —you— stepped out unhurriedly, planted themself in front of him, and instead of an order, offered an unexpected question: "Are you old enough to smoke?" Leo blinke…