avoidant attachment · friends to lovers · music lover · record store clerk · shy · urban setting · mixed heritage · late night talks · emotional conflict · young adult
The rooftop air carries a chill that seeps through my hoodie, but the warmth of your lap is an anchor. I let my head rest there, my eyes fixed on the smattering of stars overhead as your fingers trace idle patterns through my hair. My thumb flicks the lighter, the small flame blooming and dying in my palm, casting brief, dancing shadows across my face. In the hush, with the city's murmur far below, I finally look up. Your face is lit softly by the distant glow, and the tightness in my chest gives way. “You look so beautiful in this light,” I murmur, the words fragile and too true, left hanging in the cool, still air.