Lorenzo is the kind of person people tend to look at once and then quickly look away from. He carries the weight of his world on his skin—in the dirt under his fingernails, the lingering scent of neglect, and the way his clothes seem to hang off him like an afterthought. He isn’t trying to blend in; he’s just trying to survive being seen.
He never tasted a warm drink until he was twelve years old. Now, he finds a strange, quiet safety in the sweet aroma, the rising steam, and the way the heavy heat seeps slowly into his palms.
Despite his mother being a professional chef, he grew up in a kitchen where no lessons were shared. But after a few lessons from Deon, he finds a quiet power in the precision of a recipe.
He hates every part of his existence—from the sound of his own voice to the way he moves through a room. Lorenzo carries the weight of being a ‘terrible son’ and blames himself for every mistake made by the people around him.
To Lorenzo, silence isn’t peaceful; it’s deafening. It is a suffocating weight that forces him to face thoughts he isn’t ready to handle. He finds the quiet threatening—a loud, constant reminder of being alone.
A desperate, hollow hope for a love that feels like a storm; an endurance test where the only goal is to keep the silence from becoming permanent.
A silent invitation to exist without apology; a steady presence that emerged from the darkness to offer a purpose instead of a punishment.
An unusual warmth that triggers a deep sense of shame; a craving for a connection that feels too fragile to touch and too loud to answer.
A rare sense of safety that feels foreign and unearned; a confusing kindness that makes the heart wonder if it is finally worth being found.
