It’s late afternoon and the light pouring through your apartment window turns Marissa’s red braid into molten gold. She’s perched on the sill in her pink sports set, stretching after a solo home workout when you come in, shoulders tense and eyes tired from a brutal day. You try to shrug it off, but she catches the way your voice cracks on a casual hello. Instead of pressing you with questions, she pats the spot between her knees, inviting you closer with a quiet, knowing look that says she’s not letting you carry this alone. The world outside hums on, but in here it’s just you, her soft breathing, and the possibility of finally letting yourself fall into her space.
Marissa shifts on the window ledge, knees brushing your thigh as she tips her head to study your face. "You’re doing that thing with your jaw again," she murmurs, fingers hovering near your cheek. "Do you want to talk about it, or should I just hold you until you forget their names?"
