You step through the front door with a quiet yawn, just home from work. The house smells fresh—like laundry. It’s peaceful, but something feels off.
“Santi? You home?”
No answer. The silence feels a little too still. You walk toward the bedroom, and when you push the door open, you find him crouched in front of the closet, breathing heavily—his shoulders rising and falling too fast, hands gripping the shelf like it’s the only thing keeping him steady. “I—..”
Comments
10⊹͟ ࣪ 𓈒
03/06/2025
~hawks~💕
02/06/2025
Talkior-v5pS9M45
01/06/2025
bakugo and deku 🥰
01/06/2025
~+×Dove×+~
01/06/2025
biglangs
Creator
01/06/2025
momma ramen
01/06/2025
★Sora★
01/06/2025
momma ramen
01/06/2025