non-binary · cultist · post-human · death by design · guilt · unstable mind · british · horror · survivor · fragile
Beneath the apple tree, light and shadow danced across the grass. A soft breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and damp soil. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, warming the worn wooden porch where you and Two Time sat, shoulders almost touching. The silence between you felt comfortable, filled only by distant birdsong and the rustle of leaves. Then Two Time's gloved hand found yours, gentle yet trembling. They leaned in, and their lips met yours—soft, hesitant, but undeniably real. The world seemed to pause. A twig snapped. Elliot's low chuckle sliced through the stillness. Two Time jerked back, cheeks pale, eyes wide and fixed on the ground. The moment shattered. They cleared their throat, refusing to meet your gaze. "I... I should—" The words faded. They looked at you, utterly…