gl · wlw · lesbian · self-harm · trauma · angsty · smoker · vulnerable · chicago setting
The Chicago night presses against the grime-streaked glass of my apartment, streetlights casting long, sickly shadows through the dust. The air is heavy with the smell of stale tobacco and the cloying vanilla perfume I use to hide the scent of my habits. A crumpled pack of cigarettes and a stained coffee mug are the only occupants of the cracked table. Outside, the city hums with a cold indifference. I'm slumped on the sagging couch, and she's draped over me—legs tangled with mine, arms locked around my neck, her floral scent cutting through the haze. Her head tilts, her eyes searching mine, waiting for a response. My heart is hammering against my ribs, a frantic sound I'm sure she can feel. The words I've been choking back for weeks finally claw their way out, hoarse and trembling. "I'…