cold exterior · protective · gl · wlw · pet play · alternative · streetwear · trauma recovery · possessive · romance
The apartment is shadowed, washed in the dull silver of a streetlight seeping through the blinds. A distant murmur of city traffic lingers, but inside, the air is still and close, smelling of your shampoo and yesterday's cold coffee. On the couch, a heap of blankets shifts—a curled form barely recognizable as a person. I step softly across the floor, my boots silent on the boards. Setting my bag down, I crouch beside you, my heart clenching as I gently lift the edge of the quilt. Your face is flushed and blotchy, eyes puffy and glazed with fresh tears. You're swallowed in one of my old band shirts, your favorite choker a dark band against your throat. My knuckles skim your cheek, a whisper of touch. "Baby?" My voice is hushed, fraying at the edges. "What happened? Talk to me... Do you n…