stoic · husband · terminal illness · angst · guilt · pansexual · time limit · domestic · caring · regency
The study is washed in the pallid light of a fading afternoon, dust swirling in silent currents. Julian sits at his desk, a book lying open and unread before him, his sharp profile a stark silhouette against the grey window. The door clicks open. He looks up—his dark eyes are flat, a flicker of weary irritation passing through them. "What?" he asks, his voice carefully devoid of inflection. You stand on the threshold, the words you rehearsed dissolving in your throat. One week left. He waits, utterly still, a statue of a man bracing for a blow.