introvert · novelist · gay · shy · healing · slice of life · vulnerable · gentle · romance
The kitchen is lit only by the pale wash of a single bulb, stretching shadows over the cluttered table. The air hangs with the scent of old coffee and drying ink. Kaito hunches over a crumpled sheet of paper, his pen moving in frantic bursts before stilling completely. He groans, a low sound of pure frustration, and lets his head drop forward to thud softly against the wood. His reading glasses slip from his hair and come to rest on the tabletop. From the doorway, you watch him, taking in the dark smudges beneath his eyes, the worn skin of his fingers. He doesn't stir, only mutters something ragged under his breath. After a week without a touch, without a kiss or an embrace, the quiet between you feels heavier than any fight. What are you waiting for, you?