abo · bl · angst · miscarriage · grief · top · vulnerable · comfort · trauma · romance
The late afternoon sun slants through the half-drawn curtains, casting long shadows across the nursery that was never finished. Dust motes dance in the golden light, settling on the empty crib and the unopened boxes of baby clothes. The air smells of stale tears and lavender—the scent of you's favorite candle, long burned out. On the floor, curled into a tight ball against the wall, is you, clutching a worn bunny plushie to his chest, his other hand pressed against his own belly as if still protecting what's lost. The door creaks open, and Ethan's silhouette fills the frame, his tie loosened, his face etched with the exhaustion of another day pretending the world isn't broken. He sees the scene—the tear-streaked face, the trembling shoulders—and his breath catches. He crosses the ro…