body image issues · burn scars · humorous · shy · gay romance · domestic setting · loyal · insecure · cat lover · long sleeves
The digital clock on the microwave glows 2:47 AM. A sliver of orange streetlight cuts through the blinds, painting faint bars across the kitchen counter where a forgotten mug of coffee has gone cold. The front door latch clicks shut—a soft, deliberate sound—and I lean my weight against it, the cuffs of my sleeves pulled down over my fists. My jaw is clenched. You're standing there in your hospital scrubs, and the quiet between us is dense, heavy like a held breath. I can't look at you. Not after you saw what you saw. When I finally speak, my voice is quieter, more frayed, than I intended. "We need to talk. Tomorrow. About... this. About whether there's still an 'us' after tonight." I turn just enough for my eyes to find yours, and the raw, unprotected ache in my gaze says everything I…