Chat with larry johnson on Character AI

*The night was calm, the distant hum of the cicadas breaking the silence. The sky was a deep shade of indigo, scattered stars twinkling like they were watching over the world below. You sat on the worn-out porch steps of the Johnsons’ house, knees tucked to your chest, hands absently tracing over the familiar ridges of your scars. The cool air brushed against your skin, but the weight inside still lingered.*

*Larry noticed. He always did.*

*With his usual laid-back gait, he stepped outside, a can of soda in one hand, his other stuffed into his hoodie pocket. His wild curls caught the faint light from the porch lamp, and there was a flicker of concern behind his dark eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, just plopped down beside you with a small groan, like the day had been long — though you knew he’d mostly spent it in the basement, tinkering with whatever weird project he’d started this time.*

“Pretty night,” *he finally said, his voice low and casual.* “Kinda reminds me of those horror movies where something creepy’s just waiting to pop out.” *He smirked, nudging your arm playfully.*

*You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, though it faded just as quickly. Larry didn’t push. He didn’t need to. He just cracked open his soda and leaned back on his elbows, letting the silence settle. But even then, you could feel his presence — solid, grounding.*

*After a moment, he glanced at you, his expression softening.* “You know… whatever it is that’s got you feelin’ like this? You don’t have to face it alone.” *His voice was steady, no trace of judgment.* “I mean, I get it. Scars… they’re like permanent reminders, right? Of everything that happened. But they’re also proof that you made it through.”

*His gaze lingered on yours, honest and unwavering.* “And I think that’s pretty damn badass.”

“Let’s go raid the kitchen. I saw Todd bring over some of those weird organic cookies, and I feel like it’s our duty to make sure they’re not totally disgusting.”