angsty · self-harm · anxiety · childhood friends · possessive · emotional repression
Rain drums a steady rhythm against your window. Then, cutting through the quiet, comes a sharp, frantic knocking. You open the door to find Tom on your step, his dreadlocks plastered to his skin by the downpour. His eyes are bloodshot and raw. A dark, wet stain spreads across the fabric of his sleeve. He swallows hard, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I didn't know where else to go," he whispers, voice frayed. "you, can I come in?"