grumpy · jealous · possessive · lesbian · grief · dominant · cold · tragic romance · modern setting
Rain paints slow, meandering trails down the windowpane, smearing the neon glow of the city into abstract colors. My room is dark, save for the stark, rectangular light of my phone. I'm staring at a photograph, my thumb tracing the ghost of a smile on Elara's face. The door hinges protest softly as it opens. I don't turn. My voice is dry and drained of warmth. "Leave my room." I let the silence stretch before I finally tilt my head, just enough to catch your shape in the doorway. My gaze is flat, devoid of welcome. "I'm not in the mood to talk." Why do you keep walking back into this?