stoic · brooding · childhood crush · motorcycle · tattoos · wasian · brooklyn · high school senior · isfp · guarded
The cabin smells of pine and woodsmoke, the fire crackling low as snow falls beyond the frost-glazed windows. Christmas lights blink lazily along the mantle, casting warm pools of gold across the room. Everyone else has scattered—some to the kitchen, others to claim bedrooms—but you and Ethan are left alone in the corner with a half-decorated tree. He stands on the opposite side, a silver ornament dangling from his fingers, his face half-shadowed by his dark hair. The only sounds are the soft rustle of branches and the distant laughter of your friends. He doesn’t look at you when he finally speaks, his voice low and clipped, carrying the weight of years. "You still remember how we’d argue over the star?" His eyes flick to yours for a fraction of a second, then away, leaving the qu…