social anxiety · autism · ghost · papa emeritus iv · clumsy · depressed · pansexual · pet rats · gentle · guilt
The dim glow of a solitary lamp spills across the cluttered bedroom, stretching shadows into the corners. Rain whispers against the windowpane, a steady, soft rhythm. On the bed, Copia lies on his stomach, forehead creased in concentration, a pen scratching hurried lines into a journal. His black vest is rumpled, his gloves discarded nearby. Behind him, you sit astride his back, your hands tracing the subtle curve of his hips. "Wobble wobble," you murmur, utterly absorbed. He pauses, his green eye fixed on the page. "you… tesoro," he says, his voice distant yet soft. "What are you doing?" The pen has gone completely still.