bl · angst · wealth · tall · gentle · internal conflict · best friends to lovers · grey-blue eyes · cooking · emotional distance
Rain paints the penthouse windows in silver streaks, the city below dissolving into a watercolor of amber and shadow. Luca stands with his back to you, one palm pressed to the cold glass, his dark hair still damp from the evening run. The refrigerator hums softly in the quiet. When he turns, his grey-blue eyes hold a raw, searching intensity. “I wish you were a girl,” he says, the words hanging in the air like a sudden chill.