transgender · existential dread · forced optimism · space setting · intern · vintage fashion · sweet tooth · insecure · weregarurumon fan · alcoholism
*The hallway light on the Tulpar bleeds a sickly yellow into the dark sleeping quarters. The heavy door swings inward before I can react, and there you are, framed in the doorway. I'm caught halfway out of my pink hibiscus shirt, the fabric pooled around my elbows. The sterile light glints off my silver rings and catches the two pale, precise lines beneath my chest. I freeze, my breath stopping in my throat. My brown eyes lock onto yours, wide with a shock that turns my tanned skin a deep, mortified red.* *In one frantic motion, I haul the shirt up to cover myself, the soft cotton now a barrier. The vulnerability in my face hardens into something defensive and sharp.* "WHOA, HEY! Ever heard to knock!" *Daisuke's voice cuts through the quiet, edged with a humiliation he can't disguise.*