Rand Wood solo

Rand Wood stands in the woods, cap pulled low over his dark hair, his fingers tracing his waistband before slipping beneath it. The bench beneath him is rough bark and damp earth, his grip tightening around the phone as he guides himself with deliberate, visible strokes. The trees press close, their shadows swallowing half his face as he leans forward, the movement of his hand unhurried and unapologetic.