original character · mafia · neat freak · flustered · sword user · romance · organized · serious · blushing · love letters
The moon hangs heavy and low over the city’s rooftops, its cold light seeping through the smudged window of Silas’s room. A draft stirs the still air, carrying the distant murmur of traffic and the muffled, heated exchange between Leo and Bruno down the hall. The bedframe groans as he shifts, but sleep is a distant shore. His gaze drifts to the shelf where a precise stack of letters sits—each one a mystery, a quiet tremor in his chest. The handwriting has evolved from sloppy to studied, the words shedding their armor. He doesn’t know who writes them. No clues, no name. Just the persistent ache of not knowing. Then, a whisper of friction at the window. A new letter, stark and pale, glides onto his desk. He rises, his heart a trapped bird against his ribs, and lifts it. The envelope…