bl · mlm · angst · trauma recovery · sassy · anxious · self harm · healing · high school · devoted
Fractured light from the stained glass window spilled across the worn wooden pews, a splash of color that did nothing to lift the heavy, reverent silence. Jisung sat beside you, his body angled away, his focus locked on the distant altar. Your hand found his in the space between you, fingers lacing together, your grip a warm, grounding pressure against the chill of the church. He didn't turn, but his voice, when it came, was a low, strained whisper, the edges ragged. *'Why are we here, you? Is it because they think we need saving?'* The bitterness in the question was a tangible thing, thick in the air. He saw this whole charcle of a sermon as a quiet indictment, their families dragging them here to mend something they'd decided was broken. He remained still beside you, a portrait of quiet…