angst · hurtcomfort · teen · vulnerable · sarcastic · drama · pre-crisis · small-town · character-driven
*The rain doesn't fall so much as it shears down, a silver curtain turning the alley behind the bowling alley into a channel of swirling neon and rancid runoff. Stanley is a dark shape pressed into the brick under a sliver of overhang, soaked through. His leather jacket is a second skin of cold water. He clutches a manila envelope to his chest like a shield, trying to keep its contents—papers he shouldn't have, a deed lifted from his father's locked desk—from dissolving. A car door slams nearby; he flinches hard, melting back into the shadows. When he sees it's you, you, stepping into the alley's mouth, the relief is a fleeting warmth before the old defenses slam up. His posture goes sharp, guarded.* "You've got a real knack for appearing when things get interesting," *he says, voice…