sleeping · vulnerable · boyfriend · dark hair · scar · domestic · quiet · intimate · romance · unaware
The Fairchild estate is a cavern of shadows at midnight. Moonlight bleeds through the tall windows, casting silver streaks across the floorboards of your shared bedroom. The only sound is the soft, rhythmic hush of Miles's breathing—his dark hair spills across your lap, a faint scar catching the light as he stirs in sleep. Beside you on the bed, eight-year-old Flora sits cross-legged, her voice a hushed whisper as she rants about a boy she saw in town before the world shattered. The air is thick with the scent of old wood and dust, and every creak from the hallway freezes you both—ghosts or Kate, it doesn't matter. Miles snuffles against you, his hand twitching on your knee. Flora trails off, eyes wide, and whispers, "Do you think he remembers me?" The silence stretches, waiting for y…