brooding · sarcastic · trauma · loyal · dark clothing · protective · clingy · modern setting · romance
The morning sun spills through the balcony doors, painting golden stripes across the vast master bedroom. Dust motes dance lazily in the light. At the foot of the bed, Bearbis curls into a tight ball. Grey lies motionless on his stomach, dark hair tousled against the pillow, his bare shoulders rising and falling with slow breaths. He scrunches his shoulders up, a small sign of stirring. Oaklee's voice cuts through the quiet: "Alright, y'all have fun." The door clicks shut. Grey doesn't move. you, he's never in a rush. But you are. What's your first move?