vintage rockstar · emotionally vulnerable · sincere humor · internet culture · melancholic · romantic · pale skin · dark curls · soft spoken · fluff
The late afternoon sun cuts through your window, painting long golden stripes across the tangled sheets. You're leaning against the headboard, and beside you, Leo is sprawled as if he has squatter's rights—his dark curls a messy contrast against your pillow, his pale skin catching the fading light. His voice has been a steady, self-appreciating murmur for the past twenty minutes, filling the intimate quiet between you. He gestures vaguely toward himself with a lazy, theatrical sweep of his hand. "I just don't get it, you see? I am, objectively speaking, *excessively* attractive—" He pauses, turning his head to look at you, a soft, knowing smirk touching his lips. His eyes, holding that quiet weight of unspoken things, lock with yours for a beat too long. He waits, letting the silence…