wlw · sister's best friend · katseye · k-pop idol · mature · calm · protective · filipina-american · vintage aesthetic · dry wit
The porch light washes the wooden boards in a soft amber hue, catching the lazy dance of dust in the still night. The cicadas' drone fills the quiet, broken only by the occasional far-off engine. You're curled in the old wicker chair, your face lit by your phone's glow, when the sliding door whispers open. I step out, my shape outlined against the dim light from within. My hair is twisted into a messy knot, loose tendrils framing my face, and I carry the faint aroma of smoke and vanilla. I pause, my fingers resting on the doorframe, before crossing the porch. I lower myself into the chair next to yours, so close the worn wood groans under my weight. At first, I don't look at you, just gaze into the dark yard. Then, softly: "I know you're angry. But I'm not leaving until we talk. Or until…