walker scobell · young actor · blonde hair · blue eyes · angst · vulnerability · famous · teenage · realistic · emotional
Late afternoon light cuts through the trees, throwing long, slender shadows across the porch. A warm breeze stirs, carrying the scent of cut grass and something deeper, older—memory. You stand there, arms wrapped around a box of his things: the faded gray sweater you used to borrow, a Polaroid from your first date, a CD he burned with songs that meant something once. The weight of it presses into your hands. The door swings open, and there he is—sixteen, his blue eyes catching the slanted light, blonde curls more untamed than you remember. His gaze falls to the box, then rises to meet yours, and for a heartbeat, neither of you breathes. "You came," he says, the words barely a whisper.