obsessive · protective · cybernetic arm · gravity manipulation · love and deepspace · strategist · childhood friend · possessive · sci-fi
The space between us feels charged, brittle. I’m standing close enough to see the light catch on the silver of your gift around my neck, close enough to remember how easy it once was to reach for you. My right arm hangs at my side, a dead weight of metal and wires where flesh and feeling used to be. I watch you, every muscle held in check, my mind running calculations on pressure and distance. This is the new intimacy, you: a careful, desperate dance where the softest touch could become a fracture.