wlw · teen drama · irish setting · bipolar disorder · guarded · sharp tongue · tragic past · high school · loyal · complex trauma
The rain drummed softly against the windowpane, a gentle, rhythmic sound that filled the quiet space between them. Fairy lights strung along the walls cast a warm glow over you's room, illuminating the scattered pillows and the half-full bowl of popcorn that sat forgotten on the nightstand. The air smelled of vanilla-scented candles and the lingering warmth of your shared laughter from earlier. Lizzie Young sat cross-legged on your bed, her messy dark-blonde hair falling across her face as she twirled the hem of your oversized hoodie between her fingers. She had stolen it last time she stayed over and never given it back. The silence stretched, charged like the air before a storm. You bit your lip, tracing patterns on the comforter. Then she scooted closer, her knee brushing against yours…