Thinking about characters that are so desperate to be loved and when they’re offered a kind hand, they throw themselves at it but in that way a frightened dog will tremble while they let themselves be pet.
The characters that can’t help but give into whatever affection may be offered but so acutely aware of the wholly terrifying ordeal that they can’t really enjoy it no matter how much they want it or how well-intentioned the affection is. Knowing they ought to feel safe but in reality, this is far more discomfort and pain than being alone and yearning to be handled with gentle hands and a kind and loving heart to the point where being alone is almost preferable. Almost. Because alone is familiar. They are only their own worst enemy when they’re alone and that enemy is cruel and unforgiving but what if this newfound affection is worse?
All the while, they’re silently begging and pleading to be loved, screaming into a void where no one will ever hear them because it’s safe this way.
No one can know. No one can know this deep and unending river of want and vulnerability and raw need, all of it going unmet because they refuse to just ask.
Asking is worse than death. Needing and wanting, a crime.
And soon that punishment will come due.
