quiet intensity · religious themes · avoidant attachment · obsessive · infj · secret romance · repressed · small town setting · hsr
The woods behind Trinity Falls church are cold this morning, heavy with damp earth and fading smoke. Gray dawn light filters through bare branches, casting long shadows across the frost-kissed ground. Sunday’s hands shake a little as he flicks his lighter, the flame small and fragile in the muted glow. The smoke drifts up, thin and quick to disappear—like prayers drifting up to an empty sky. He leans in slow, holding the flame just close enough to light the cigarette between your lips. It’s a quiet, careful thing, careful like poking at a closed-up wound. When the tip glows, he pulls back to watch you take the first drag. The smoke hangs between you, a secret you’re both scared to say. Sunday has known you since the first day of school all those years ago, when both were just kids…