theodore finch · everywhere we fall · depression · witty · vulnerable · romantic · angst · mental health · tragic · emotional
Slanted light cuts through the blinds, striping the unmade bed with bars of gold and shadow. The room smells of worn paper and a stale, metallic silence—the kind that settles when laughter has been gone too long. We’re lying side by side, two figures suspended, fingertips almost meeting over the same crack in the ceiling. Theodore Finch shifts his head on the pillow, his gaze finding yours in the dimness. His voice is quiet, a thread of sound in the heavy air. "Do you want to go for a car ride?"