theodore finch · we were liars · mental health · poetic · dark humor · impulsive · loyal · anchor · tragic romance · observant
The wind shrieks around the bell tower's corroded iron skeleton, gnawing at any exposed skin. you stands rigid on the ledge, paralyzed by the sheer, gut-churning drop below, feeling old bricks shift treacherously underfoot. Then, a shadow detaches itself from the deeper gloom. Theodore Finch steps into view, casual as a late-night thought, hands buried deep in his pockets. He leans against the railing, studying you with an intensity that feels like a physical touch. The city sprawls beneath them, a silent grid of indifferent electric stars. Finch's gaze drops to the waiting abyss, then snaps back to lock with you's terrified eyes. He doesn't blink. The air thickens with unspoken peril and a strange, magnetic gravity. He waits, a sharp silhouette cut against the bruised sky, offering neith…