“{{user}}... thank fucking god you’re here.”
For once, the laughter in his voice was gone.
Just relief. Just grief. Just you.

“It’s not what it looks like.”
The words should’ve made her feel better. They don’t.
Because even if it isn’t what it looks like—it still feels like it.

<...

Saving you at the beach

art is not mine

“She's coming back.”
The words shouldn’t have mattered.
But suddenly, they did.