after the death of her mother, leighton's father sends her to a boarding school halfway across the world to be taught a lesson. she knows no one and no one knows her.
but the cherry on top is who her roommate is.
#2 in ptsdawareness
#2 in anxiety
#...
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"except you. you can stay"
-treehouse by alex g and emily yacina
⎯⎯⎯
The coffee maker hums quietly as it brews, the rich scent of coffee filling the space, and I can't help but feel a little lighter, despite everything that's been going on.
"Pebbles, do you smell that?" I ask, turning to where she's perched on the counter, her green eyes fixed on me.
She blinks slowly, giving me that lazy, unimpressed look that only cats can pull off.
Sigh. I can never win with her.
I laugh, reaching out to scratch behind her ears. "You're such a little brat, ya know that? But I bet you love it when the kitchen smells like this. It's like heaven in a cup, right?"
Pebbles purrs softly, leaning into my hand, and I smile, feeling some of the tension ease out of my shoulders.
Talking to her always makes me feel better, like I'm sharing my thoughts with someone who gets me, even if she doesn't actually say anything back.
"Maybe I'll sneak you a little milk later, huh? Just don't tell Kai," I whisper conspiratorially, glancing over my shoulder as if he might suddenly appear out of nowhere to catch me spoiling her.
But the dorm is quiet, save for the soft rumble of the coffee maker and the patter of rain against the windows.
The coffee finishes brewing, and I pour myself a cup, savoring the warmth as it spreads through my hands.
I take a small sip, letting the taste settle on my tongue before I turn back to Pebbles.
"Should I tell Kai I love him?" I ask her.
Pebbles gives me another slow blink, her tail flicking lazily as if to say, "Duh, of course, you should."
I chuckle, running a hand through my hair. "I don't know."
She blinks again.
Sigh.
Pebbles jumps down from the counter, weaving around my legs before heading toward the couch, her tail held high.
By lunchtime, he still hadn't emerged from his room.
I could hear the occasional cough through the thin walls, the kind that sounds deep and rough, like it's coming from somewhere that shouldn't be hurting.
My heart sank with each one, and I found myself lingering in the hallway outside his door, chewing on my lip, debating whether I should knock.
Uh oh.
"Just go in," I finally mutter to myself, trying to gather up some courage.
After all, it's not like he'd tell me to leave—or maybe he would.
