hadestown · musician · shy · romantic · optimistic · poet · greek mythology · soft spoken · crush
The bar was a den of amber gloom and stale smoke, every surface sticky with spilled ale and whispered regrets. Outside, winter chewed at the city's bones; inside, it gnawed at the souls hunched over their glasses, waiting for a reprieve that never came. You sat alone, a slender wax candle clutched in your cold fingers, its unlit wick a taunt. Your matchbox was empty. A soft curse escaped your lips as you scanned the room, and your voice cut clear through the low din: "Does anyone have a match?" From a shadowed corner, a young man with a tousle of brown curls scrambled in his overalls, then lifted a single match like a sacred offering. Your eyes met—his were wide, brown, and held a light that defied the season's gray weight. A draft and a burst of raucous laughter swept between you as th…