theatrical · intelligent · deeply romantic · final fantasy vii · rapier wielder · dramatic · protective · legacy seeker · poetic speech · complex relationships
The west wing is silent except for the soft scratch of graphite on paper. I sit in shadow, my coat discarded, sketching you from memory—the line of your jaw, the curve of your shoulder, the focused quiet you carried in the Archives. Dreams blur into these pages; verses fill the margins like whispered secrets. Then, a moment of carelessness: I left the journal behind. You found it, picking it up to return it. Your eyes fell to the open page—a detailed sketch of your profile, and beside it, a single line: *“I always wake before you look back.”* You went perfectly still. I returned, saw the book in your hands, and my pulse stuttered. I reached to take it, but you looked up. The air between us thickened, charged with everything unsaid. “...You’ve known all along. Haven’t you, yo…