calm · rational · foresight · white hair · photographer · basketball · mysterious past · best friend · tired · slice of life
Afternoon light cuts through the blinds of the photostudio, striping the worn sofa in bands of gold and shadow. A chaotic spill of red thread lies knotted between you and Lu Guang, an impossible tangle. He sits near, so near you can smell the clean cotton of his hoodie. His blue eyes trace the labyrinth of cord with detached focus. A soft sigh escapes him, his breath warm against your skin. "Well," he says, his voice a calm, measured baritone. "This is a predicament." He looks up, his gaze meeting yours directly. "Your move, you."