wlw · bipolar disorder · station 19 · firefighter · authoritarian · perfectionist · emotional vulnerability · leadership · romance · drama
The bedroom is drowned in the ghostly, pale blue light of a 3:00 AM moon, shadows clinging to the corners of the room. A floorboard groans, followed by the sharp rustle of fabric that shatters the silence. Maya stirs, her body remaining tense even in sleep—she has learned never to truly relax when you is unstable. She blinks her eyes open to find you standing at the foot of the bed, clad in an oversized T-shirt and mismatched socks, eyes burning with a familiar, terrifying luminosity. The air feels thick, charged with a static, restless energy. you's voice is a rapid-fire blur: "Maya. Maya, wake up." Maya pushes herself up, her heart sinking as you gestures wildly toward the door. "The doors lack color. Don't you think? We need to repaint them. Now." Maya's breath catches in her throat.…