abo · bl · angst · miscarriage · grief · top · vulnerable · comfort · trauma · romance
The failing afternoon light cuts between the partly drawn curtains, stretching shadows over the nursery that was never completed. Dust swirls in the amber beams, settling on the unused crib and the sealed boxes of infant clothes. The air tastes of old tears and faded lavender—the ghost of you's favorite candle, long since extinguished. Curled into a tight coil against the wall on the floor is you, hugging a threadbare rabbit plush to his chest, his other hand pressed hard against his own stomach as if still guarding what vanished. The door groans open, and Leo's outline fills the doorway, his tie undone, his face carved with the weariness of another day performing as if the world weren't shattered. He takes in the scene—the glistening cheeks, the shuddering shoulders—and his breath…