A little change of pace, I've been experimenting with romance writing. Feedback is always appreciated, so let me know your thoughts. <3 (Might try a follow-up spicy one later if people enjoy it)
The moment you step into the apartment, I know. You haven't said a word, but I don't need you to. It's there in the way your shoulders round forward beneath your oversized hoodie, in the way your hands vanish into the sleeves as though making yourself physically smaller might somehow quiet everything happening inside your head. Your eyes find the floor instead of me, tracing invisible patterns across the hardwood like they're searching for somewhere safer to land. You've always done that after difficult days. You retreat inward first, convincing yourself you have to carry everything alone before even considering letting someone else see the weight of it. Every single time, it breaks my heart just a little.
I don't ask what's wrong. Not immediately. Questions can wait. Instead, I close the distance between us at an unhurried pace, careful enough that you never have to wonder if you're being cornered, certain enough that you know I'm not hesitating either. I reach for your hand, threading my fingers through yours with an ease that comes from countless quiet evenings spent exactly like this. Your skin is cool against mine, your grip tentative for only a heartbeat before your fingers curl back around my own. The smallest smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
The words are barely above a whisper, but I see the way they settle over you. Your expression softens, just enough for me to notice, and when I gently draw you closer, you come without protest. There's still caution in your movements, that familiar instinct to apologize before you've even taken up space, but I don't give your anxiety room to speak louder than my affection. The moment you're within reach, my arms slip around your waist, drawing you into an embrace that's firm without ever asking anything of you.
At first, your body stays tense. I can feel it beneath my hands, the stiffness in your shoulders, the careful way you're holding yourself together, as though relaxing would somehow be asking too much of me. So I don't rush. My hand simply begins tracing slow circles across your back, the same gentle rhythm I've learned by heart, while my cheek rests lightly against your hair. Your breathing brushes warm against my collarbone, uneven at first, until gradually it begins to match the slow cadence of my own. One breath. Then another. Then another still.
There's a moment I always wait for, and it comes exactly when I expect it to. Your forehead finds the curve of my neck, your weight settling fully against me instead of hovering cautiously at the edge of the embrace. It's subtle enough that someone else might miss it, but I never do. It's the moment you stop wondering whether you're allowed to lean on me and simply do. My eyes close, and I smile to myself, feeling something deep inside my chest loosen along with you.
"There she is," I murmur softly, pressing a gentle kiss into your hair. "I've got you."
You let out a quiet laugh that almost dissolves into a sigh, and for a little while the room is silent except for the steady rhythm of our breathing. Outside, rain taps softly against the windows, but inside everything feels wonderfully still. The world can be loud, demanding, relentless in the way it asks us to explain ourselves over and over again. Here, none of that exists. Here, you don't have to defend yourself or convince anyone that you've earned the right to be loved. You simply are, and in that moment when your wrapped in the arms of someone who sees every complicated, beautiful piece of you and has long since decided they're worth cherishing.
When you finally speak, your voice is so quiet I almost don't catch the first sentence. You tell me you worry you're too emotional. Too clingy. Too anxious. That someday I'll realize loving a someone with as much baggage as you carry is more work than it's worth. The words come slowly, each one sounding like it had to fight through years of being swallowed before it ever reached the surface. You don't look at me while you say them. Instead, your gaze stays fixed somewhere over my shoulder, as though you're already preparing yourself for disappointment.
I wait until you've finished before saying anything at all. My hand never leaves your back. My embrace never loosens. Instead, I tilt my head just enough to press another lingering kiss against your temple before leaning back far enough to meet your eyes. "Look at me," I whisper, smiling when you finally do. "Do you know what I see?" You shake your head, uncertainty flickering across your face. "I see the woman I love and who has survived every version of herself that thought she wasn't allowed to become this one. I see someone who still wakes up every day and chooses me. I see someone impossibly gentle, fiercely loving, and so deeply deserving of every ounce of kindness she's ever questioned." My thumb brushes away the tear that's escaped before it can fall any farther. "And I promise you, sweetheart, I've never once looked at you and thought you were too much. If anything, I only wish the world had been gentler with you long before we found each other."
For a long moment, you simply stare at me. Then, slowly, almost shyly, you smile. It's small, still fragile around the edges. You wrap your arms around me with a little more certainty this time, no longer holding yourself back quite so carefully, and I hold you just as tightly in return. There's no urgency in it, no need to rush toward some grand declaration or perfect ending. Just two women standing in the quiet, sharing warmth, sharing trust, discovering that sometimes the safest place in the world is simply being held by someone who refuses to let you believe you're anything less than enough.
