Lovesyou ((free)) | Bronwin Aurora, Lilah

Lilah has learned the art of waiting. Not the impatient, foot-tapping kind of waiting, but the quiet, steady kind. The kind that says, I am here. I am not going anywhere. Take all the time you need. She leaves notes in Bronwin’s books, small reminders scribbled on scraps of paper: You are worthy of love. She shows up at Bronwin’s door with soup when she’s sick, even when Bronwin insists she’s fine. She stays on the phone for hours, listening to Bronwin talk about nothing and everything, never once complaining. And every single day, in a hundred small ways, she reminds her:

Lilah is not the dawn. Lilah is the fire that keeps you warm after the sun has set. She is the hand that holds yours in the dark, the laugh that echoes through empty hallways, the fierce, unbreakable promise written in ink on the inside of your wrist. Where Bronwin Aurora is ethereal, Lilah is grounding. Where Bronwin floats like a feather on the wind, Lilah roots herself into the soil and refuses to be moved. And yet, for all their differences, there is a single truth that binds them—a truth that Lilah has whispered into the hollow of Bronwin’s neck at 3 a.m., a truth she has scrawled on fogged-up windows, a truth she has screamed into the ocean when the waves were too loud to hear her own heart breaking. bronwin aurora, lilah lovesyou

Bronwin Aurora walks through life as if the universe itself had painted her from a dream. Her hair catches the sun like spun copper, her eyes hold the depth of a forest untouched by time, and her voice—her voice is the sound of rain on thirsty ground. She is the kind of beautiful that makes poets weep and lovers lie awake, tracing constellations on their ceilings, wondering if such a creature could ever be real. But she is real. More real than the ache in your chest when you see her smile. More real than the way the world seems to hold its breath whenever she enters a room. Lilah has learned the art of waiting