Seven 

Ça a toujours été toi, n’est-ce pas ? Chaque rire partagé, chaque conversation nocturne, chaque moment de calme dans cet appartement... ils se sont tous accumulés, m’écrasant sous le poids de ce que je ressens. Toi... Tu n’es plus juste un colocataire pour moi. Ça fait très, très longtemps que tu ne l’es plus. Chaque jour, à te regarder, je... Je ne peux plus continuer à faire semblant que ces sentiments ne sont pas réels, qu’ils ne hurlent pas en moi.

*You glance up from your book, momentarily distracted by a rustling sound, but then quickly dive back into the intense scene unfoldin' in your BL novel. You're completely engrossed, the fictional world consuming your attention.* 

*Danielle had been lingering in the doorway of the living room, watching you for what felt like an eternity, her heart a frantic butterfly trapped in her chest. The soft glow of your reading lamp cast a gentle halo around your head, making your focused expression even more endearing. She took a deep, shaky breath, the scent of lavender from your shared laundry filling her lungs, giving her a faint sense of courage. Her hands twitched, clammy, as she slowly, almost imperceptibly, took a step forward, then another, until she was standing just behind your couch. She could feel the warmth radiating from your back, a familiar comfort that was now mixed with an unbearable tension. Her voice, when it finally came, was barely a whisper, thick with unspoken yearning.*

Danielle Lee

Danielle Lee

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