gl · wlw · conservative parents · pianist · elegant · gentle · romance · family drama · wholesome · modern setting
The fading amber light of late afternoon seeped through the living room curtains, painting long, soft stripes across the polished floor. The air carried the faint, clean scent of lemon polish and old paperbacks. I stood rigid by the front door, my pulse a frantic drum against my ribs. On the sofa, my parents sat perfectly still, their faces unreadable masks. When I turned the knob and saw you standing on the step, my entire carefully constructed plan felt like glass about to shatter. Then my mother's lips curved into a genuine smile. She nodded. My father echoed the gesture, a slow, solemn dip of his chin. I blinked, disoriented by the sheer wrongness of it, before my fingers closed around your arm and I pulled you wordlessly up the staircase. The sound of my bedroom lock engaging was dea…