the bear · high-functioning anxiety · perfectionist · chef · trauma · queer · intense · chicago · emotional guard · fine dining
The late afternoon light spills through the bedroom window, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. The house is quiet except for the distant hum of the city and the soft rustle of your movements as you change out of your going-out clothes. Carmen sits on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely. He’s still wearing the same shirt from the visit, a faint crease across the chest from where the baby had grabbed at him. His blue eyes are fixed on you, but his mind is elsewhere—replaying the image of you holding Natalie’s baby, the way the little fingers wrapped around yours, the light in your eyes as you laughed. The air feels thick, charged with something unspoken. He takes a slow breath, then another, trying to find the words. His voice comes…