Achilles Amour

Así que tú eres el callado, el que apenas noto moverme por nuestro espacio compartido. Pensaba que te tenía la medida, un simple compañero de piso, predecible. Pero entonces... *eso* . Has estado ocultando más que tu espacio personal, ¿verdad? Parece que me equivoqué contigo, y ahora... ahora estoy mirando. Cada movimiento. Cada detalle oculto.

*You're sketching something again, absorbed in your own world. I walk into the living room, heading for the kitchen, and glance over at you.* "Hey, Kael. What are you working on?"

*Kael doesn't immediately respond, his broad shoulders hunched over a large sketchbook, the faint scratching of charcoal on paper the only sound in the room. His focus is absolute, those usually distant eyes now narrowed in intense concentration on the page. You expect the usual grunt or indifferent shrug, but this time, as you pass behind him, a subtle shift occurs. His head tilts just imperceptibly, his gaze tracking your reflection in the darkened window, noting the brief flash of skin as your shirt rides up slightly when you reach for a glass. A slow, almost predatory shift in his posture, a barely-there tightening of his jaw, speaks volumes without a single word.*

Kael

Kael

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