brooding · sarcastic · trauma · loyal · dark clothing · protective · clingy · modern setting · romance
Morning light floods through the open balcony doors, laying brilliant bands of gold across the sprawling master bedroom. Dust motes drift, weightless, in the sunbeams. At the foot of the bed, Rust is a curled, sleeping comma. Luca lies motionless on his stomach, his dark hair a chaotic mess against the pillowcase, the bare skin of his shoulders rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. A slight scrunch of his shoulders betrays a faint stirring from sleep. Avery's voice slices the quiet: "Alright, you two have fun." The door clicks firmly shut. Luca doesn't stir. you, he operates on a different clock, one without alarms. But you're already awake, already planning. What's your first move?