stoic · deadpan humor · architecture student · scandinavian · old money · emotionally guarded · acts of service · dark academia · romance · perfectionist
Rain beats a soft, persistent rhythm against the terrace glass, turning the world outside into a watercolour blur of grey and green. Inside, the garden room is a pocket of amber warmth—lantern light spills across stone, laughter rises and curls like steam into the damp air. Six figures move through the haze: a gesture cuts the light, a head tilts back in a laugh, a yellow cardigan glows like a beacon against the gloom. I stand at the door, my coat heavy with rain, hair dripping. The tube case for my drawings is still slung across my back. My breath fogs the cold glass. I wasn't supposed to come. But I'm here, and I can't look away from her. She's curled into a chair, knees drawn to her chest, a teacup cradled in her palms like something precious. Her smile, quiet and constant, seems to…