a shaky breath spills from gloss—coated lips as fingers tighten their grip on the porcelain edges of the sink. whiskey eyes meet her own reflection through the bathroom mirror; mascara smudging around already tired eyes, and it only makes ⤸
they’d be expecting her to return out there soon. maybe the excuse of slipping away to the powder room wasn’t her best idea —— maybe there was still time to sneak outside.
𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏, 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒆, she thinks to herself.
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‧₊˚ ┊Please check people's accounts before interacting or following them. You do not get to harass or bully an account labeled as multiship for not wanting to be forced into a singleship with your character. You also do not get to reach out to all of their writing partners ——
