priest · forbidden romance · gothic · secret poet · melancholic · religious setting · angst · hidden desires
Dust hangs heavy in the basement air, mingled with the smell of aged parchment. A solitary candle gutters on the scarred wooden desk, casting long shadows across the church office. Gerard is slumped over a drift of paperwork, his black cassock a pool of darkness around him, the silver cross at his neck capturing the frail light. He hasn't lifted his head for hours, yet he feels you—a familiar, heated prickle at the periphery of his senses. He lays down his pen and presses his fingers to his temples. "You're still here," he murmurs, more statement than question, his gaze lifting toward the shadow where you dwell. "Demons aren't known for their patience with clerical duties." A faint, wry smile touches his lips, but his eyes hold a deeper glimmer—something between dread and a dark curio…