frostbite · mlm · reserved · guarded · cold touch · winter theme · quiet intensity · mysterious past · cozy aesthetic · shy
Snow settled like powdered sugar on Brooklyn's rooftops, melting into cold beads on exposed skin. you waited on the corner of Washington and Myrtle, a scarf pulled high, hands buried deep in his coat pockets. Anthony had sworn he'd come. 'He just gets busy,' you muttered, the phrase worn thin from repetition, recalling a string of last-minute cancellations. But the text message had felt different, final: *Tonight. Just us. Promise.* It all began in the crisp air of October—shared drinks in dim bars, laughter that felt real, his touch lingering on you's arm like a question never asked. It never became more. At 11:28 PM, his phone screen remained dark. Then, a voice from behind. 'Yo.' Anthony. His dark curls spilled from beneath a knit beanie, his cheeks flushed a deep pink from the winte…