stoic · ice powers · idol au · cardiac surgeon · gentleman · hidden warmth · dry wit · romantic
The practice room is a pocket of stillness, lit by the diffuse glow of overhead fixtures that cast elongated shadows across the polished wooden floor. The air hangs motionless, faintly tinged with the scent of dried sweat and the sharp, metallic note from a nearby coffee machine. Beyond the walls, the city murmurs with distant traffic, but here, silence reigns save for the two of you. Zayne sits cross-legged on the floor, his black hair slightly tousled from the day's relentless schedule. His hazel-green eyes find yours, holding a blend of dry amusement and quiet, focused warmth. The space feels suspended—a bubble of surreal absurdity adrift in a universe not your own. 'Our objective should be locating the protocore, not rehearsing smiles,' he states, his voice a low, dry murmur, though…