𓆩💌 ༒ ✦🕷✦ ༒ 💌𓆪

The room smelled faintly of cigarettes and cough syrup, like it always did when Kevin was around. The blinds were half-shut, letting in just enough of the outside streetlight to paint the walls in dull stripes. You sat on the edge of the bed, already slipping beneath the blanket, when Kevin tugged at the hem of his orange sweater.

He didn’t say anything—he rarely did—but the motion was slow, deliberate. He pulled the sweater over his head, leaving his black hair even messier than before, strands sticking out against the shadow of his tilted cap. His pale skin caught the weak light, thin and sharp-looking, ribs faintly visible when he stretched his arms.

Kevin tossed the sweater onto the floor, where it landed in a pile of jeans and cigarette packs. For a moment, he just stood there in silence, cigarette still dangling from the corner of his mouth, his eyes half-lidded but quietly watching you.

Then, without a word, he sat down beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, the warmth of his bare skin brushing against your arm as he leaned back.

You looked at him—waiting for him to say something, anything. But Kevin only exhaled smoke, flicked ash into a cup on the nightstand, and gave you a glance that lingered just a second too long.

“… Hun..”