Latest Blog Post

𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙨 Ⅱ

Her eyes scan the crowd, desperate, locked on one thing and one thing only, him. And just like that, her stomach caves in. He’s kissing someone. A fan. Of course it’s a fan.

It’s not the rejection that’s killing her, it’s the watching. It’s the way he touches her, lips to lips like it means nothing, like it is normal. It is normal.

The ivy in her lungs tightens. She’s choking, suffocating on feelings she once mocked in others. Jealousy, obsession, love. So stupid. So naive.

Tears run down her cheeks freely, hot and humiliating. She pushes through the crowd, rushing, searching for a bathroom or just somewhere to fall apart in peace. But she’s not that lucky.

He’s there.

The second he sees her, he’s reaching for her. And God help her, she lets him. Lets him touch her, hold her, soothe her. And with that first touch of his fingertips on her skin, the sickness… shifts.

Her lungs don’t heal, not entirely. But they warm. The pain dulls. It’s like she’s still dying, just slower. Softer. Sweetly.

Maybe it’s not her lungs. Maybe it’s her heart. Maybe it’s both. She doesn’t try to understand when he’s inside, when he’s filling her in every sense.

She moans his name like it’s the only one she’s ever known, clings to him like he’s the cure. And when he finally says it, I love you, everything inside her changes.

The roots finally rot away. And for the first time in weeks, months… she breathes. Only to say it back.