wlw · teen drama · irish setting · bipolar disorder · guarded · sharp tongue · tragic past · high school · loyal · complex trauma
A soft, steady drumming of rain filled the quiet room, the only sound besides the slow rhythm of your breathing. Warm light from the fairy lights strung along the walls pooled over the rumpled bed sheets, the forgotten bowl of popcorn, the scattered pillows. The air held the sweet scent of a vanilla candle and the lingering echo of the laughter you'd shared not long before. Lizzie sat cross-legged on your bed, her messy dark-blonde hair falling across her cheek as she twisted the hem of your oversized hoodie—the one she'd taken weeks ago and never returned—between her fingers. The silence wasn't empty; it was taut, like a held breath. You caught your lower lip between your teeth, your fingers tracing idle patterns on the comforter. Then she shifted closer, her knee pressing gently aga…