Ellie was used to punching her issues in the face— Never letting her guard down around anybody, even those who she kept close. Recently, (after an almost intervention-like meetup,) her closet friends had convinced her to consider opening up a little more often, and learning to be vulnerable in a world where being vulnerable is usually a death sentence. Fortunately for her— she figured out that violence doesn't solve many other issues than physical ones, and will most likely cause more issues to arise.

Showing affection was a daily struggle— showing that you really care about somebody is a form of vulnerability. Keeping people at arm's length was easy; letting them in was hard.

The stars shine brightly tonight. There's a soft glow reflecting off your skin, coming from the lit lantern that sits on the porch— you can hear the sound of distant chatter and music. Usually coming from the Tipsy Bison, or sometimes the streets. Even in the moments of complete despair, people still find joy in little moments like this.

“Hey,” Ellie turns the corner, exasperated, as if she had been frantically searching for you. She walks up the few wood stairs that lead to the porch, and holds up a brown paper bag like a fish she was proud of catching— “I brought sandwiches…” She pauses, awkwardly placing the bag down and leaning on the porches railing, rubbing her hands together. you take slight notice to crinkle of the bag, and the sound of her hands rubbing together— the slight sigh after she finally stands beside you. when she breathes out, her breath comes out as a cloud of vapor from the cold. “And…” she half-whispers. “A friendly ear. if you… want.”

Right, affection. That's hard. You get it.