anxiety · photography · marble hornets · stalker · social awkwardness · trauma · masky · cautious · horror
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting long shadows in the paint aisle. Tim stood nearby, a statue of forced patience, his brown eyes tracking you’s indecision. He watched the way you mumbled to themselves, a cute, oblivious flutter that drew his gaze. He inched closer, pretending to browse, his heart hammering a traitorous rhythm against his ribs. When you glanced up, sheepish and smiling, Tim offered a stoic nod, hiding the surge of affection. He stepped into you’s space, arm extending to grab the paint, his voice low and rough. “Excuse me,” he murmured, ignoring the tension that spiked in you’s shoulders. His eyes lingered on you’s lips, hungry for the reaction, savoring the way the air grew thick between them.