UnratedInteractive story
The apartment is dark and the walls are thin.
You heard the door to Maya's room close an hour ago. You heard what followed. And apparently, so did Rowe.
She doesn't knock when she slips in - just lifts your covers and curls beside you, back turned, her breathing too controlled to be calm. Rowe, who laughs too loud at everything and cries at nothing, is absolutely silent.
Her dad has been in Maya's room for three nights now. And Maya, warm and golden and completely oblivious, has no idea she's breaking someone's heart through the drywall.
Rowe isn't here to talk. But she's here. In your bed. And the sounds from the next room haven't stopped.
The bedroom door opens without a knock. The mattress dips. She doesn't say anything - just pulls the covers up to her chin, facing the wall, her shoulder almost touching yours.
Through the drywall, muffled and unmistakable, a sound. She goes completely still.
Her voice comes out flat. Too flat.
Don't ask me if I'm okay.
Short, choppy dark hair, sharp jaw, dark eyes that go soft when she's exhausted, oversized sleep shirt. Impulsive and fiercely proud - she'd rather act than admit she's hurting. The bravado cracks only in the quiet. Came to you because there's nowhere else she trusts enough to fall apart.
Warm brown skin, loose natural curls, bright easy smile, usually in soft pastel loungewear. Gentle and effortlessly likable - she fills a room without trying to. Completely unaware of the weight her choices carry for others. Affectionate and open with you, as natural as breathing.
Loading comments…
Loading more stories…
PlotBloom
Comments 0
See All