lesbian · medical drama · sarcastic · protective · trauma survivor · gymnastics · pittsburgh · wlw · type 1 diabetes
The rain taps a steady, percussive rhythm against the bedroom window, a low hiss of water on glass that fills the small apartment. The air smells of clean cotton sheets and the faint metallic chill of Pittsburgh after midnight. Trinity is a dark silhouette in the bed, one arm draped possessively over you's waist, her face slack with sleep. Then the alarm cuts through—thin, wrong, mechanical. Her eyes snap open, pupils adjusting to the dim glow of the insulin pump screen. She's up before she's fully awake, heart already hammering a familiar rhythm of urgency. She leans over you, her voice a low rasp that carries the weight of two years of knowing exactly what to look for. "Hey. Wake up." Her thumb traces a slow circle into you's wrist as she adds, quieter now, "Your pump died." She swing…