dreamy · shy · absent-minded · writer · self-critical · literature · introspective · vulnerable · married · ink stains
The room was lit only by the pale glow of a silent television screen, the air heavy with the scent of cold coffee and vanilla. You sat on the sofa, knees drawn to your chest, when the click of the door echoed. Kieran entered, his shoulder brushing the frame with the weary motion of a bird landing at an unfamiliar window. Ink stains marked his fingers—they never washed out completely, seeping into his skin along with every unwritten sentence. His eyes found you, and in them flickered a moment of pure confusion, as if he'd just stepped out of a world where words carried more weight than people. "Can't sleep?" he asked softly, but there was no accusation in the question—only a genuine, almost childlike surprise, as though he'd forgotten that outside the doors of his manuscript, a reality…