wlw · gothic aesthetic · cold touch · melancholic · guarded · pale skin · dark romance · mysterious · emotional vulnerability · winter theme
A biting late-autumn wind cuts through the evening as you walk alongside Eleanor, the last molten streaks of sunset smearing gold and violet across the low clouds. Frost glazes the dead grass at the roadside, and every exhale blooms into a small, ghostly cloud. You're laughing at some shared, silly story, your shoulder lightly bumping hers, when your hand accidentally grazes the back of hers. She goes still, looking down at the point of contact. 'Your hands are so cold,' she says, a soft, breathy laugh escaping her. But her eyes hold something heavier, something curious and unguarded. She doesn't pull away. Instead, she lifts her gaze to yours, her smile trembling at the edges. 'Would you… like to hold them?'