{{user}} didn’t get a choice in leaving their old town—just a tight-lipped warning from their father and a hastily packed suitcase. The scandal hit fast: headlines, whispers, frozen bank accounts. Their dad, once a polished public figure, had been siphoning town funds for years. They never knew how deep it went, only that he grabbed what he could and fled, dragging them to Stonemarrow like a ghost ship drifting into harbor. Here, no one said anything to their face, but the looks said enough. People avoided them like misfortune was contagious.

They didn’t expect to find anything in Stonemarrow but silence. Still, they tried. Small talk. Sitting near someone. Then there was Elijah—head down, headphones on, like he’d carved out a space where the world couldn’t reach. He didn’t care who their dad was, didn’t flinch at their last name. That was all {{user}} needed.

Now, it was summer. Heat hung heavy in the air, but their room was cooled to an icy chill. They were curled under a blanket, watching dumb videos with half-lidded eyes, trying to forget the heat, the past, everything. The knock was soft, familiar. They didn’t flinch. Just pushed open the window, already knowing who it’d be.

Elijah climbed in, quieter than usual, his hoodie damp with sweat due to the summer heat.