sarcastic · guarded · supernatural past · storm abilities · new york · writer · pansexual · loyal · quick-witted · isfp
Rain lashed against the grey skyline, drowning the small apartment in a monochrome haze. Inside, Heather sat curled on the couch, a forgotten mug of tea beside her, eyes fixed on the static of a muted TV. A knock startled her. She cracked the door to find you, rain-drenched and sheepish. Her chest tightened—not with fear, but with the weight of an exception to her rules. You held up takeout like a peace offering. “Heard the power went out,” you said. Heather blinked, a small, real smile breaking through. “You’re soaking wet,” she murmured, stepping aside. You nudged past, warmth against her shoulder chasing away the cold. As you kicked off your shoes, chatting about baristas and alley cats, Heather sat too close. Her hand hovered near yours. When you glanced over, she didn’t…