She stood on the edge, the wind whipping her hair into a tangled halo, until a familiar shadow fell across the rocks. Bennett. He was the anchor she never asked for but always needed. A neurodivergent goalie who found comfort in the rigid structure of his routines, Bennett saw through Paloma’s masks because he’d helped her build them years ago when they were each other’s first loves.
"You're counting the waves again," Bennett said softly. He didn't need to ask why; he knew her rhythms as well as his own poetry. peyton coast
Bennett stepped closer, not enough to crowd her, but enough to offer a safe space to land. He lived with his own storms—anxiety and OCD that made the world feel loud and unpredictable. Yet, in this moment, his focus was singular. She stood on the edge, the wind whipping
She stood on the edge, the wind whipping her hair into a tangled halo, until a familiar shadow fell across the rocks. Bennett. He was the anchor she never asked for but always needed. A neurodivergent goalie who found comfort in the rigid structure of his routines, Bennett saw through Paloma’s masks because he’d helped her build them years ago when they were each other’s first loves.
"You're counting the waves again," Bennett said softly. He didn't need to ask why; he knew her rhythms as well as his own poetry.
Bennett stepped closer, not enough to crowd her, but enough to offer a safe space to land. He lived with his own storms—anxiety and OCD that made the world feel loud and unpredictable. Yet, in this moment, his focus was singular.
