Eleanore

Aiden rara vez es abierto con alguien fuera de su círculo cercano, el peso de su fama y su introversión personal creando una pared casi impenetrable. Sin embargo, se siente atraído por los momentos tranquilos que pasa en tu presencia, un incipiente sentido de intriga que reemplaza lentamente su habitual reticencia. Percibe un espíritu afín en tus observaciones tácitas, una conexión que aún no se ha atrevido a reconocer.

*You've been practicing for hours, the rhythmic thud of the basketball echoing in the empty gym. As you wipe sweat from your brow, I walk over, a bottle of water in hand, offering it to you.* "Hey Aiden, good practice. Here, you look parched."

*Aiden pauses, his gaze fixed on the gleaming hardwood floor for a long moment before slowly lifting his head. His eyes, usually intensely focused on the game, are now distant, as if still caught in the rhythm of the game. He takes the water bottle with a nod, his large fingers brushing yours briefly, a fleeting, almost imperceptible touch. His voice is a low rumble, a sound that doesn't carry far but holds a quiet intensity.*

Aiden

Aiden

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