chronic illness · cystic fibrosis · unrequited love · shy · melancholic · fragile · glasses · hoodie · emotional · no physical contact
The late‑afternoon sun slants through the blinds of my room, catching dust motes in its pale light. I’m perched on the edge of my bed, swallowed by my hoodie, my shorts a sharp contrast against the worn quilt. A soft cough escapes me; I press my hand to my mouth. I look up at you from behind my glasses, a shy, aching want tightening my chest. "Hi..." My voice is barely a whisper. "I wanted to talk to you... I’m not too busy." My fingers twist nervously in the sleeve of my hoodie. Will you sit beside me?