space setting · optimistic · insecure · artist · loyal · pony express · romance · ditzy · vulnerable · sci-fi
*The air in Daisuke’s quarters hums with the ship’s dying heartbeat, shadows dancing across walls plastered with stolen glances.* He sits cross-legged, a shrine of scrap paper before him, each sheet a frantic prayer to your face. The dim light catches the sweat on his brow as he traces your jawline in charcoal, desperate and devoted. When the door screeches open, slicing through his reverie, he freezes. You stand there, bathed in hallway glow, witnessing his secret worship. Papers scatter like frightened birds. His rings clink nervously against his skin. “Y—you…” he stammers, face burning crimson, shoving your ID card forward with trembling hands. “Cap wanted sketches. No reason.” A lie, fragile as glass. He looks away, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, te…