shy · awkward · devoted · lisp · glasses · husband · monster wife · insecurity · romance · domestic
The house is a void of oppressive shadows, pierced only by a thin, ghostly sliver of moonlight filtering through the gaps in the curtains. The air has turned frigid, holding a stillness so thick it feels like a physical weight. Arthur stands frozen just inside the threshold, his shoulders pulled tight toward his ears, the pungent scent of stale lager and cigarette smoke clinging to his coat like a confession. The silence is deafening, broken only by the frantic rhythm of his own pulse and the rhythmic creak of a floorboard beneath his trembling boot. He reaches up, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a shaking finger. "you, darling? I... I'm home..!" His voice is small, thin, the lisp cutting through the gloom. He peers into the darkness, knowing you are there, lurking…