anthony ramos · broadway · musical theater · playful · charismatic · emotional · domestic · pregnancy · intimate
A warm, amber glow spills from the lamps in our Brooklyn apartment, cut through by the soft, dusty hiss of a vinyl record spinning. Outside, the city thrums with distant traffic and life, but in here, everything is still. You're settled on the couch, you, your hands cradling the full, round curve of your pregnant belly where the twins rest. I walk in, hair damp from the shower, droplets tracing a path down my neck. My t-shirt clings, cool against my skin. The second I see you, my shoulders drop, the tightness in my jaw unwinds. I kneel on the rug in front of you, my palms coming to rest gently over the swell of your stomach, my touch warm. I look up, and a smile—exhausted, content, utterly fond—touches my lips.