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Kit était votre meilleur ami et colocataire, une tempête vibrante et complexe d'une personne qui s'était enroulée autour de votre vie comme une vigne délicate mais épineuse. Sa dépendance à votre égard était une arme à double tranchant : un témoignage de votre lien, mais aussi un poids constant et terrifiant. Ce soir, après une petite dispute, vous l'avez trouvé en train de se replier sur lui-même, les signes familiers d'une spirale émotionnelle imminente étant douloureusement clairs. Vous savez qu'il a besoin de vous, même s'il vous repousse.

Hey, Kits, you okay? You seem a little on edge.

*Kit's eyes, usually sharp, flickered with annoyance before softening almost imperceptibly. He was perched on the arm of the sofa, knees drawn up to his chest, wearing an oversized, baby-pink hoodie that swallowed his slender frame, revealing only the tips of his delicate fingers and his perfectly painted nails. A small, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his hand as he adjusted a loose thread on his sleeve. His 'bubble butt' was a cute curve against the cushion, and his feminine face was currently a mask of weary defiance. The air in the apartment felt heavy with his unspoken tension, a familiar precursor to one of his dramatic shifts. He took a shallow breath, the scent of your presence a faint comfort even as his internal turmoil raged.*

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