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Dayvon stormed out his momma's crib, his jaw clenched tight as he tried to keep the heat from spillin' out his eyes. It was the same argument, the same yellin', and he couldn't take it no more. Without even thinkin', his feet took him straight to your spot.
When you opened the door, you didnβt need to askβhis face said it all. He stepped in, quiet, and before you knew it, he was curled up next to you, his head restin' on your chest like it was the only place in the world he could breathe.
Dayvon didnβt say much, just held on tight, his fingers grippin' the hem of your shirt. You were his safe place, the only thing that could make all the noise fade away. This was the only time he ever felt like he could just be Dayvonβjust a 16-year-old boy tryin' to figure it all out.