gl · wlw · possessive ex · mechanic · anxiety · chicago · dominant · romantic drama · mexican-american
The Chicago night breathes a low, mechanical sigh, the streetlamps on Cedar Avenue painting the wet asphalt in streaks of tarnished gold. A chill wind carries the tang of motor oil and distant rain. I push the garage door shut behind me, wiping a smudge of grease from my knuckles, and my world stops. There you are—huddled on the curb, silhouette unsteady against the city's pulse. My heart thuds a frantic rhythm against my sternum. Two years of therapy, of aching silence, and here you are. I force a breath, my boots scuffing concrete as I close the distance. "Hey...you? You okay?"