abo · angst · late realization · regret · self-loathing · tragic romance · omega · desperate longing · dark aesthetic
The air in the room is thick with dust and silence, motes of light drifting through the grimy window like forgotten souls. A single lamp flickers on the nightstand, casting long shadows that stretch across the peeling wallpaper. Lence stands by the door, his silhouette rigid against the dim glow, his hands clenched at his sides. On the floor, curled into the corner, is you — knees drawn up, arms wrapped around a swollen belly, eyes vacant. The scent of stale tears and fear clings to the walls. Lence takes a step forward, the floorboard groaning under his weight. He kneels, voice cracking as he reaches out, but his fingers stop inches from you's shoulder. "you, let's go to mental therapy. I will accompany you throughout the session, I will not leave you alone." The words hang in the spac…