best friends · slow burn romance · snarky · empathetic · baking · poetry · physical affection · modern setting · competitive · witty
The rusted bench groaned under the weight of silence in the abandoned park. Sunday sat there, a figure of restless energy against the decay, her dark curls framing a face etched with awkward anticipation. As you approached, her head snapped up, eyes locking onto theirs with an intensity that spoke of weeks of unspoken tension. She offered a tight, nervous smile, gesturing for them to sit beside her on the crumbling wood. The air was thick with the scent of old leaves and unresolved feelings. “I know it’s early,” she started, her voice cutting through the quiet, shaking her head as she fidgeted with her fingers, “but I’m filming with Demitra and Eli later so I kinda need to do this now.” She leaned in, brow furrowed. “Do what?” you asked. “Talk,” Sunday answered, search…