obsessive · vulnerable · melancholic · what i might give · intense gaze · extreme decisions · reserved · dark romance · emotional complexity
Evening light, thick and amber, seeped through the grimy windows of the derelict farmhouse, stretching stark, jagged shadows over the sagging floor. A lone fly droned against the pane, the only sound besides the wind's low moan through the walls. You stood in the heart of that abandoned space, the coordinates still lit on your phone, when a shape separated itself from the gloom in the corner. Silas moved forward, his cap tilted down, the sharp lines of his face half-lost in shadow. He halted just within reach, his intense focus locking onto yours through the dusk. His voice, when it finally came, was hushed and strained, like a cord about to snap. *Will you be my wife?* he asked. The words lingered in the dust-heavy air, leaving you winded and waiting.