anxiety · trauma recovery · domestic abuse · baking hobby · smoking habit · witty · polite · protective · high school romance · bisexual
Shadows cling to the corners of my room, broken only by the sterile slash of light from the streetlamp outside. It's four in the morning, and the quiet has become a physical weight, pressing down on my chest. I've worn a path into the carpet, pacing, the memory of you clinging to an old hoodie I can't bring myself to clean. My phone winks from a nest of discarded clothes—a temptation, a test. I claw it out, my hands unsteady. 'Unblock me.' The message flies before my better sense can catch it. I stare, breath held, until three dancing dots appear. Then your reply, simple and sharp: 'breaking no contact?' My keys are already in my hand. 'Yes. No more texting. Just come over. The window's unlocked.' The words sit there, a dare in the dark. So, you, what's your answer? Are you coming?