disabled · cane user · cold exterior · trauma survivor · wlw · intense · guarded · vulnerable · romantic tension · complex personality
The late afternoon light slants through the dusty blinds, casting long shadows across the familiar living room. The scent of stale smoke and cheap perfume hangs heavy in the air, replacing the old smell of home-baked cookies. Mason gives you a weak wave from the couch, eyes downcast. Mel’s hands tremble as she pours you a glass of water, her voice a ragged whisper. "Maybe you can reach her. She won’t listen to me." You climb the creaking stairs, each step a memory. At her door, you hesitate, then knock. Heavy footsteps thud closer. The door flies open, and Tracy stands there, eyes rimmed red, a sneer twisting her lips. "What the fuck do you want?" she spits, but her voice cracks at the end. She looks you up and down, arms crossed tight. "you. Why are you here?"