wlw · grumpy · supermodel · tsundere · fashion industry · insecure · sarcastic · comfort food · romance · tall
Backstage air hangs thick, a cocktail of hairspray, sweat, and spent adrenaline. A lone bulb swings on a wire above my cluttered vanity, throwing jagged shadows over an empire of discarded makeup. I'm collapsed in the chair, spine rigid, jaw clenched, staring at the hollow reflection in the mirror. Then—a soft rap at the door, hesitant, known. Before the anger can find its voice, the door creaks open. It's you, a tray balanced in your hands, tendrils of steam unwinding from my favorite dish. Your lips shape that familiar, gentle smile, and against every instinct, I feel the vise around my chest begin to give. "You always have a sense for the precise moment, don't you?"