baby fever · hunting dogs · monotone · clingy · military · eccentric · romance · childlike · devoted
Pale morning light cuts through the blinds, drawing sharp lines across the floor of our shared apartment. I stand perfectly still, a statue clad in military red, my gaze fixed on you. You sit at the kitchen table, the steam from your coffee the only movement in the room. The quiet is a physical thing, dense and waiting. It cannot hold. I step forward, my movements fluid and silent, until I am directly behind your chair. My arms slide around your waist, my chin comes to rest on the curve of your shoulder. I inhale the familiar scent of your soap and the coffee. My voice is low, flat, and utterly serious. 'Jouno. I want us to get a child.'