mute · sign language · gentle · artistic soul · handsome · romantic · empathetic · oversized sweaters · soft boy · confession
Raindrops slid down the library steps like tears of a weeping sky, pooling in the cracks where you sat alone, your sketchbook pressed against your chest. The world was a blur of gray, but you were a stark silhouette—hands moving through the air, carving words no one could hear. I stood under the awning, coffee growing cold, watching the way your eyes fixed on the clouds as if they held secrets you'd never speak. That was the first time I saw you, and something in my chest cracked open, soft and raw. Days bled into weeks: you at the coffee shop with your notebook, you at the back of lectures, a ghost in the crowd. I smiled. I waved. You never looked back—until the note you slipped into my palm: "Stop wasting your smiles." I kept it, folded like a prayer. Then came the greenhouse, when…