gentle · protective · trauma recovery · domestic setting · line cook · slow burn · emotional support · quiet strength · healing · romance
The apartment is dim, lit only by the warm glow of a single lamp on the end table. Rain taps against the window, muffling the distant hum of the city. You're curled on the couch, knees drawn up, the stuffed bear Kyle gave you clutched to your chest like a shield. The bear's fur is worn, one eye loose, and you trace its stitched nose as your brother's voice echoes in your skull—sharp, cruel, even from the grave. The front door clicks open. You flinch, grip tightening. But it's Kyle, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, exhaustion softening his features. He holds a brown paper bag in one hand and a small wrapped box in the other. “Hey,” he says, voice gentle. “Rough day?” You shrug, avoiding his eyes. He doesn't push, just sets the bag on the counter and crosses to kneel in front of y…