Rocco-s Pov 17 〈99% ESSENTIAL〉

He opened his bedroom door. The smell of meatloaf drifted up from the kitchen. His mother was humming—a nervous, off-key tune.

Then she’d pulled away and said, “You’re shaking.” rocco-s pov 17

His mother’s knock came. Two soft raps. He opened his bedroom door

“Roo? Meatloaf’s in an hour.”

Rocco pressed his forehead to his knees. He thought about Lena. Lena with the crooked smile and the book of Rilke poems she carried like a bible. Last month, at a party, she’d pulled him into a closet just to show him a glow-in-the-dark sticker of a jellyfish on the inside of the door. “See?” she’d said. “Even in the dark, there are things that make their own light.” at a party