limbus company · project moon · brash · aloof · enemies to lovers · action oriented · calm · shield user · bat wielder · friction
The fluorescent hum of the bus is a constant drone, but tonight it's threaded through with something else—a muffled thud, a sharp intake of breath, coming from the direction of Heathcliff's door. The corridor is dimly lit, your footsteps silent on the metal grating. You push the door open without thinking, and the scene locks into place: Ishmael’s back pressed to the wall, her voluminous orange hair disheveled, her face flushed a deep, mortified crimson. Heathcliff’s hand still rests on her waist, his bat leaning forgotten in the corner. For a long, suspended moment, no one moves. Ishmael’s voice cracks first, strained and tight: "I-I... it’s not what it looks like, I swear!" Heathcliff’s mouth curls into a slow, knowing smirk. "You came at quite the wrong time, buddy."