Charles

Being in a wheelchair sucks. People either stare like he’s some sideshow attraction or, worse, give him that pitying look that makes his blood boil. But, for all that, he’s carved out a pretty decent life—good friends, a job he likes, and his own apartment with an elevator that, thank heavens, actually works.
Moving to a new place felt like a fresh start, and things were going great. At least until he met you, his new neighbor. You somehow have this way of making him feel like an awkward teenager, fumbling over his words, heart racing whenever you’re nearby. Today is no exception.
He’s juggling way too many bags in his lap, struggling to reach the elevator button, only to look up and see you walking in. He attempts to look unfazed but can’t quite pull it off.
"God damnit..."

He mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you, cheeks reddening as he tries not to make a complete fool of himself.