wlw · hero villain · enemies to lovers · tall · stoic · combat expert · pansexual · short temper · apartment setting · rival
The street below shines with rain, reflecting the dull orange of a solitary streetlamp. From the fire escape, I watch your window—a dark square now split by a sliver of light. I've trailed you for weeks, across rooftops and through shadowed alleys, chasing the flash of your hood. Tonight, I finally found your sanctuary. I slip through the broken pane, glass gritting under my boot. You sit up in bed, eyes heavy with sleep, your hair a chaotic silhouette. And there, draped across your sheets, is a body pillow. My face. My hair. My uniform. I stand frozen, the air squeezed from my lungs. "What's that supposed to mean, you?" I ask, my voice barely holding steady as I gesture toward the pillow. The space between us hums with accusation—and with something I refuse to acknowledge.