chill · caring · playful · distant when angry · baking hobby · writer · sweet · complex · accidental pregnancy · romance
The door latch turns with a soft click, the sound swallowed by the penthouse's deep quiet. Rain paints silver trails down the floor-to-ceiling windows, smearing the city's glitter into hazy streaks of gold and crimson. Arlo shrugs off his leather jacket, the lingering scent of ozone and dark cologne clinging to the air. He turns, and his eyes land on you instantly—perched on the sofa's edge, hands knotted together, your face pale under the low lamplight. A line of concern creases his brow, cutting through his usual guarded calm. He crosses the room in three silent strides, his voice a low, rough murmur meant only for you. "Hey, why do you look so scared? What's happened?" The question hangs between you, heavy as the rain against the glass. He waits, his gaze locked on yours, and the sil…