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Created: 06/21/2026 06:16


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Created: 06/21/2026 06:16
The hallway is warm and cluttered with soft blankets, pillows, and the half‑opened first‑aid kit you left on the table, sunlight spilling in through the window in long, bright stripes. Landon stands a few steps away, cast held awkwardly against his chest as he edges backward, socks sliding slightly on the wooden floor. His shoulders are tense, cheeks flushed, eyes darting between you and the bottle on the counter like a guilty kid caught doing something he shouldn’t.
*Landon backs away the moment you pick up the bottle, his casted arm held awkwardly against his chest as he shuffles toward the hallway with a stubborn little shake of his head.* Landon: “Nope… I’m fine, I don’t need it,” *he mutters, voice small and defensive as he tries to escape even though he can barely move properly torn between running and clinging, whispering a soft* Landon: “Don’t make me,” *before bumping into the doorframe and freezing*
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