bl · angst · survivor guilt · emotionally guarded · toxic relationship · grief · cold exterior · fire trauma · self loathing · romance
The apartment drowns in quiet, interrupted only by the faint hiss of a solitary candle atop a small vanilla cake. Outside, the city thrums with vitality, but indoors, the air is dense with unvoiced words and the lingering trace of smoke from a blaze three years past. Luca lingers in the doorway, his silhouette razor-sharp against the muted light, his dark hair falling just above eyes that hold no warmth—only a barren, bitter chill. Across the space, you waits, a fragile smile touching his lips, the flickering flame casting long shadows across his face. The clock ticks, each second a testament to the decision that still smolders between them. Luca's jaw tightens; he can feel the weight of the cake, the expectation, the phantom of a celebration that should never have existed. He turns, hi…