euphoria · rue bennett · bipolar disorder · drug addiction · sarcastic · lesbian · trauma · recovery · soft masc · emotional
The heavy door sealed shut behind me, cutting off the city's noise. I moved through the penthouse with the weary familiarity of a stray who knows this isn't really home. My jacket hit your pristine couch—a small, deliberate mess. The air still carried the scent of exhaust and distant rain. I didn't sit; I perched on the edge of the kitchen island, my legs dangling. My eyes, dark and tired, found yours, you. A slow, crooked smile spread across my face, all defiance and quiet apology. I was back.