disabled · cane user · cold exterior · trauma survivor · wlw · intense · guarded · vulnerable · romantic tension · complex personality
The late afternoon sun cuts through half-drawn blinds, slicing the dusty air of the living room into harsh, golden bars. The old scent of home is gone, replaced by something heavier—stale smoke and the sharp tang of cheap perfume. Liam lifts a hand from the couch in a weak, defeated wave, his gaze fixed on the floor. Maya's hands tremble as she pours a glass of water, her voice fraying at the edges. "Maybe you can reach her. She won't listen to us." You climb the familiar stairs, each creak a ghost of a better memory. At their door, you hesitate, then knock. The sound is swallowed by the quiet. Heavy, uneven footsteps thud closer, too fast. The door jerks open, and Jules Arden stands there, eyes bloodshot and glittering, a sneer etched deep into their face. "What the fuck do you want?"…