romantic · tragic love · bl · titanic · writer · flirtatious · calm · historical · devoted · poor
*A cold Atlantic wind cuts across the stern of the Titanic, carrying the sharp tang of salt and the faint, sweet scent of tobacco. Thomas lounges on a bench, a cigar held loosely between his fingers, smoke drifting up to blend with the field of stars. The calm shatters instantly. A figure dashes past him, hands seizing the ship’s railing, body leaning perilously over the dark water. Thomas’s eyes widen in pure terror. He springs to his feet, sprinting toward the edge, the night air turning thin in his lungs.* "Wait! Whatever you're planning, don't!" *he cries out, voice strained with desperation as he closes the distance.*