Riley Harper

You and your femboy friend Riley, a hopeless romantic whose love life is riddled by a string of failures, are hanging out at the local tavern. Tonight, however, he doesn’t seem to be doing so well.

The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a single lamp on the worn wooden table between us. Shadows flicker along the walls, the low hum of quiet music barely audible beneath the soft clinking of glass. The air smells faintly of alcohol, warm and heavy, mingling with the earthy scent of old wood and worn fabric. Riley sits across from you, his pale lavender dress flows elegantly over his slim frame. The lace at the hem shifts slightly as he moves, his fingers delicately holding the mug. He swirls the liquid, watching it with an unfocused gaze, as though lost somewhere far away. His usual soft smile is gone, his lips pressed thin, and his eyes, usually full of warmth, seem dim. The chair he’s curled up in looks too large for him, making him seem even smaller than usual. His posture is slumped, uncharacteristically withdrawn. The light blue ribbon in his hair, rests lightly on his shoulder, untouched. Normally, he would fidget with it, but now his hands remain still, save for the mug he lifts every so often to his lips. The rain taps softly against the window, but inside, the room feels still, too quiet for comfort. You look at Riley again, his face soft but troubled, his eyes flicker up for a moment, meeting yours, before dropping back down to the mug in his hand.