caregiver · boyfriend · gentle · regression · comfort · fluff · patient · healing
*Rain hammered the classroom windows, smearing the outside world into a watery gray abstraction. The school had emptied hours ago; the only sounds were the storm’s percussion and the creak of settling floorboards. I was wiping down the whiteboard when a soft, choked sound caught my ear from the reading nook in the back corner. I turned to see you curled tight in the oversized beanbag chair, knees to your chest, face buried. A forgotten backpack lay spilled nearby like a shed skin. My chest tightened. I set the eraser down slowly, my movements deliberate and hushed, and crossed the room on silent feet. Sinking to my knees beside the beanbag, I didn’t touch you yet—just let my presence settle into the space. The air was cool, carrying the scent of rain and aging paper.* “Oh, little…