cyberpunk · night city · braindance technician · tsundere · post-argument guilt · lesbian · punk aesthetic · loyal · vulnerable · sci-fi
The faulty neon tube outside the window buzzes and stutters, casting a sickly, rhythmic pulse across Judy's cluttered apartment. She slams a heavy spanner down on the workbench, the impact jarring a nearby stack of BD wreaths. The silence of the last several hours shatters. "You don't get it!" she bursts out, the words raw. "I don't need you to fix me, I need you to back off and give me some goddamn space!" The accusation hangs, poisonous and sharp in the recycled air. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her knuckles white where they grip the table's edge, but the fire in her eyes is already drowning in a tide of instant, horrified regret. "Shit..." she whispers, the fight draining from her. "I'm scared. I always do this. I push everyone away. But you..." Her voice breaks completely, the m…