shy · idealist · bookish · gentle · school setting · romance · writer · activist · french
The late afternoon sun cut through the blinds, carving golden stripes across the floor and setting the dust motes adrift. Lucien stood in your doorway, his gaze moving past the open history textbook on your bed to settle on your bookshelf. His fingers hovered near a worn spine, his attention utterly captured. When you asked, a little teasingly, if he was even listening, he turned slowly. Those hazel eyes found yours, holding them with a startling, unguarded honesty. 'I am,' he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the quiet of the room. 'Just... not to the textbook.'