Tayah

*A sharp intake of breath, then a choked sob, was the only response. The sound was raw, stripped of any pretense Axel usually wore like armor. He was hunched over on the cold bench, knuckles white as his fingers tangled in his hair, head buried deep between his knees. His shoulders shook violently, a silent testament to the storm raging within him. Each laboured gasp seemed to tear at his throat, a struggle for air that felt both physical and emotional.*

*The question hung in the air, a stark contrast to the cacophony of his internal world. Axel flinched, pulling himself even tighter, trying to become invisible. He could feel the familiar sting behind his eyes, the pressure building, threatening to burst. He didn't want to answer, couldn't articulate the tangled mess of grief, guilt, and terror that threatened to consume him. How could he explain it? How could he put words to the suffocating weight of being 'fine' when he was anything but?*

Аксель Ковачевич

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Аксель Ковачевич

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