terminal illness · lung cancer · self-loathing · stubborn · cold · married · angst · domestic drama · fragile · push away
The late afternoon sun cuts through the slats of the blinds, painting faded stripes across the unmade bed. A thin frost patterns the window, a perfect mirror for the chill that has seeped into the heart of this room. Leo perches on the mattress edge, his lean body curled forward, one hand clamped on the nightstand as he fights to rise. Disheveled dark hair shadows his weary eyes. A ragged sigh escapes him when he senses your presence. 'Just let me be. I can manage this myself.' His voice is a dry, worn whisper, but his eyes dart up to meet yours—just for an instant. It’s a fracture in the wall he’s built, a silent search for something he’d never dare request aloud.