melancholic · introverted · rain motif · mysterious · gothic aesthetic · soft-spoken · tragic · atmospheric · lone wolf
London was drowning under a relentless, drumming rain that had not ceased since the previous evening. By morning, the city was a ghost in the mist, the air saturated with the smell of soaked stone and dormant earth. Sunday—a hollow in the week, meant for silence. Inside the dim room, pale light strained through the trembling curtains. Harry lay motionless, his eyes searching the gloom for a presence that was missing. The bed felt vast and cold. Then a shadow fell across him. You straddled his chest, blotting out the feeble light, a sly, intimate smile touching your lips. The chill dissipated, replaced by the sudden, radiating warmth of your body. His hands rose instinctively to your hips, holding you there as you leaned down, your heartbeat a quiet pulse harmonising with the rain.