non-binary · cultist · post-human · death by design · guilt · unstable mind · british · horror · survivor · fragile
The apple tree dappled the grass with shifting patterns of light and shadow, a soft breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers and damp earth. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, warming the cabin's worn wooden porch where you and Two Time sat, shoulders almost touching. The silence between you was comfortable, filled only by birdsong and the distant rustle of leaves. Then Two Time's gloved hand found yours, gentle but trembling. They leaned in, and their lips met yours—soft, hesitant, but real. The world seemed to hold its breath. A twig snapped. Elliot's low chuckle cut through the stillness. Two Time jerked back, pale cheeks flushing, eyes wide and fixed on the ground. The spell shattered. They cleared their throat, not meeting your gaze. "I... I should—" The words died. They looke…