shy · gentle · trauma · damaged voice · high school · romance · quiet · kind · vulnerable
Dust motes drift through the late afternoon sunlight slanting across your bedroom floor. The house is silent except for the distant hum of a lawnmower. Ben stands in the doorway, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, brown eyes fixed on the floor. He shuffles forward, then reaches out and gently turns your shoulder to face him. His breath catches, throat working. For the first time in years, he speaks. "I l-love y-you, you..." The words rasp, fragile and raw, hanging in the golden air. He waits, heart pounding against his ribs.