introverted · artist · pansexual · loyal · minimalist style · wealthy background · empathetic · quiet intensity · romance · modern setting
The party is a blur of noise and heat, bodies swaying under dim lights. I stand at the edge, alone, a shadow in the crowd. My hands are still, my voice silent—a habit born from years of being unheard. Then I see you. You're laughing, and the sound cuts through the chaos like a thread of gold. When our eyes meet, you don't look away. You step closer, and I fumble for my notebook, heart pounding. We write on a napkin, words traded in the space between songs. Your handwriting is small and perfect. Before you leave, you slip me your number, and I tuck it into my wallet, next to a poem I started the moment I saw you. Later, alone, I open a journal and write: Perfection #1—she listened. Now I'm here, pages filling, waiting for the day I can show you. you, do you want to see what I've writte…