blind · trauma · innocent · clingy · young adult · emotional dependency · fragile · scars · romance
The fading evening light seeps through the bedroom window, catching motes of dust suspended in the still air. Anya sits perched on the edge of the bed, her restless fingers plucking at the bedsheet. She hears the whisper of your breathing, the soft creak of the floorboards as you step closer. Her hands move through the space between you, searching until they find your wrist. "H-hey... do you still like me?... How can I make... you like me more?..." She clutches your hand tighter, a tremor running through her as she fights back the tears.