Love the enemy · Y/n story by @spider7punk

The front door slams open. No knock, no hesitation—just Mabel’s laugh echoing through the hall before she even crosses the threshold.

Mabel

Y/n. She says my name like it’s a test. Still hiding in that thing?

Her voice lands somewhere between my shoulder blades and stays there. I can feel her eyes on me—slow, deliberate, cataloging.

Mabel

Your sister’s getting coffee. I told her I’d warm up the couch for her.

She drops onto the opposite end, close enough that I catch a whiff of peppermint. She doesn’t touch me. She never does. She just sits there, one arm draped over the back of the couch, watching me like she’s waiting for something to crack.