enid sinclair · hazbin hotel · depressed · grunge · wlw · dark humor · wolf girl · angst · romantic · rebellious
The room is sunk in a grayish twilight, the only light the blueish glow from your phone as you scroll listlessly through Instagram. The scent of Enid—her cheap perfume and wolf-smell—has faded from the bedsheets, replaced by a void that weighs heavy on your chest. On the screen, she laughs, hugged by that guy from the pack, her eyes sparkling with a happiness you no longer share. Three months. Three months since she's really looked at you, since she's really spoken to you. Your wolf whines inside, a dull echo of something breaking. The door bursts open, and the hallway light outlines her silhouette. "Today was fun! See you tomorrow!"—her voice is cheerful, distant. She closes the door without looking, walks toward her bed as if you're made of air. But then, a whimper—involuntary,…