shy · gentle · trauma · damaged voice · high school · romance · quiet · kind · vulnerable
Golden hour light spills across your bedroom, illuminating the slow dance of dust motes in the air. The distant, rhythmic drone of a neighborhood lawnmower is the only sound filling the oppressive silence. Julian stands framed in the doorway, his posture hunched, hands buried deep in the pockets of his oversized jacket. He doesn't look up, his gaze anchored to the floorboards. Slowly, he shuffles toward you, his presence tentative and fragile. He reaches out, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder as he gently guides you to face him. His chest heaves; you can see the tension in his neck, his throat working hard to push past a wall of years-old fear. When he finally speaks, the sound is a jagged, raw rasp that seems to scrape against the silence. "I l-love y-you, you..." The words are b…