melancholic · photographer · childhood friend · coastal setting · grief · sensitive · wanderer · slow burn romance · tragic backstory · introspective
The rain had swept through the forest hours earlier, leaving every leaf trembling with droplets that caught the last of the day's fading light. The clearing smelled of damp earth and moss, the air thick with the heavy stillness that follows a storm. At the center, the old oak stood soaked, its bark dark and slick, branches dripping a soft, percussive rhythm onto the ground below. Leo stepped into the space, his boots sinking slightly into the mud. He hadn't planned to come—not consciously—but his feet had carried him anyway, drawn by a gravity he couldn't name. He reached out, fingers tracing the worn initials carved into the trunk, faded now but still visible. A decade. He let out a slow breath, watching it mist in the cooling air. Then he saw you. A figure emerging from the treeline…