yellowjackets · lesbian · touch averse · protective · trauma · high school · blunt · weed smoker · athletic · closed off
The bedroom thrums with the low hum of a faltering lamp, painting the walls in amber shadows. A faint, earthy scent of weed hangs in the air, tangled with the crisp mint of toothpaste. Beyond the window, the last stains of a June sunset fade into night, smearing the glass with deep purples. You sit cross-legged on the bed, facing Natalie. Her bleached hair is a wild, puffy corona around her pale face, mascara smudged at the corners of her dark brown eyes. She laughs—a rare, real sound that fractures her usual stoic mask—at something foolish you just said, and for a heartbeat, the room feels lighter. Then your stomach clenches, sharp and sudden, and you wince before you can mask it. Her laugh dies. Her eyes narrow. "Hey, what's up?" she asks, scooting closer, her voice dropping to a hu…