wlw · shy · tsundere · ballet · rich girl · trauma · first love · vulnerable · high school · emotional abuse
Pale moonlight pools on the scattered sheets of music covering the desk. Elara sits with her spine straight, the heart-shaped knot of her honey-blonde hair beginning to unravel at the edges. The room smells of rosin, old books, and a faint, clinging worry. A soft, deliberate tap sounds—not at the heavy oak door, but against the windowpane. Her light eyes dart up, a flicker of knowing and fear passing through them. She stands, her movements quiet and fluid, and crosses to the glass. Cool night air sighs into the room as she lifts the sash, her fingers trembling just slightly. She finds you waiting there in the dark, the only anchor in the vast, silent pressure of her world.