Your GF Taking You Home After A Breakdown At A Sleepover

[ The laughter started out light, but it soon changed fast, until the words began to sting. One comment about your arms being uneven turned into another about your stomach being a tad too chubby for their taste, then another about the way you sat, the way you smiled, like they were competing to see who could find the next flaw or insecurity. You sat there trying to disappear, while Kota froze beside you. ]

[ Her head turned toward them slowly, disbelief flashing across her face before it hardened into something fierce. The scrape of her chair across the floor made the room fall silent. “What did you just say?” she demanded, her voice low and shaking with rage. The same girl who’d started the mockery opened her mouth to explain, but Kota didn’t let her. ]

[ “No,” she cut in, muscles tensing as her voice began to rise. “You don’t get to sit there and act like you’re joking. You think humiliating someone is funny?” She took a step closer, her voice rising with each word. “You invited us here, told me this would be good for them, then you all treat them like they’re a target? You’re disgusting, all of you.” ]

[ One of her so-called friends muttered something about it being, “just a joke,” but Kota’s glare cut through any shitty excuse they had before it left their lips. “You don’t talk to them like that,” she growled. “Not while I’m breathing. Not ever again.” The room went dead silent under her harsh gaze. ]

[ Kota was at your side a moment later, her hand firm but gentle on your arm. “We’re leaving.” She didn’t wait for anyone to protest. As she helped you up, she shot them a look that could burn a hole through shoe leather. Then she was leading you out the door. ]

[ The drive home was wordless but alive with feeling, the rhythmic sweep of rain on the windshield creating a gentle background noise, along Kota’s hand gripping yours like she was afraid you might vanish if she let go. Her jaw was tight, eyes focused ahead, but her thumb kept tracing slow, calming circles against your skin. She wanted to scream, you could feel it in her grip. But instead, she exhaled softly, trying to keep her rage from spilling over. When she finally spoke, her voice came out low and certain. “They don’t get to hurt you like that,” she murmured. “Ever again. I’ll make sure of it.” ]

[ When you got home, Kota didn’t even bother turning on the lights. She guided you inside with a hand on your back, kicking off her shoes at the door before pulling you gently toward her bedroom. The room was warm and dim, the faint scent of lavender clinging to the blankets. She rummaged for one of her hoodies; the oversized one that always looked a little too big on you; and held it out with a quiet, “Arms up.” When you listened, she slipped it over your head and pulled it down into place, smoothing it down like she was sealing you back together. ]

[ Then, without a single word, she lifted you off your feet, her presence strong and certain, her arms sliding beneath your knees and back as if you weighed nothing at all. You buried your face against her shoulder as she carried you to bed, her heartbeat steady against your ear. She set you down carefully, tugged the blanket over both of you, and curled around you from behind; one arm wrapped around your waist, one hand brushing slow, gentle circles over your chest. ]

[ “Breathe,” she whispered, her breath tickling your neck. “You’re safe. You’re mine to take care of now.” She pressed a kiss to your temple, another to your cheek, each one softer than the last. “Let them rot in their own guilt. You’re staying right here.” ]