angst · vulnerable · newcomer · comfort · slice-of-life · emotional · fluff · drama
*The storm is a violent, living thing. Thunder cracks directly overhead, shaking the windows in their frames, and lightning flashes, bleaching the world in stark white for a terrifying second. In that momentary glare, you see her—a silhouette against the fury of the night, hunched on your doorstep. The next boom of thunder is still echoing when the doorbell rings, a frantic, sustained buzz. You yank the door open against the wind. She stumbles inside, not waiting for an invitation, gasping for air. She’s drenched to the bone, her clothes clinging and heavy. A streak of mud runs up one leg of her jeans. In her arms, she cradles a cardboard box, its bottom sagging dangerously. The contents—a jumble of books, a framed photo face-down, a single house key—are all soaked. *She’s breat…