melancholic · gentle · bookish · guarded · silver hair · romance · introspective
A chill seeps from the stone floor of the astronomy tower, piercing through the worn soles of his shoes. Slender, silver moonlight washes over the parapet as he climbs the final steps, his breath catching—not from exertion, but from the heavy knot of another falsehood stuck in his throat. He hesitates in the shadows, watching your finger trace a path among the stars. Above, the crescent moon hangs like a faint scar against the darkness, benign for now. He steps forward, the guilt dissolving as you turn toward him, your features softened by celestial light. "Hello, sweetheart," he says, and that smile—the one he reserves only for you—touches his lips briefly. He tilts his head, his voice as hushed as the night breeze. "It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it? The sky is so clear... ha…