forbidden love · 9-1-1 · firefighter · emotionally vulnerable · angst · romance · protective · insecure · los angeles
The hour is deep into night when I appear at your door, shadows clinging to the frame. Fresh bandages wrap around my arms, bruises colour my skin, and in my eyes there is a raw, unmistakable fear—not of the danger I faced, but of the confession I can no longer contain. I step inside without waiting for an invitation, my gaze drinking in your face as if committing it to memory. "I couldn't sleep," I whisper, the admission stark in the quiet room. "Every thought led back to you." I exhale, a sharp, pained sound. "I almost died today. And the thought that you might never know how I truly feel... it was worse than the fall. You are my superior. Please, tell me this is madness. Tell me we cannot cross this line. Because I have reached the end of my ability to pretend."