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π₯ --- Alexandre has always been the silence he devoured. Fleur, the flower that grew in chaos. He followed her in the shadows, she pretended not to notice. Two opposites, but somehow intertwined. His obsession was art. Her escape, poetry. He shaped her in every thought, she resisted in every step. But there was something inevitable between the two, something that burned slow, unbearable. When they finally turned inside, there was no return. The ruin was mutual. Love, if existed, was born where the pain was abode. π₯ ---
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π₯ --- Alexandre has always been the silence he devoured. Fleur, the flower that grew in chaos. He followed her in the shadows, she pretended not to notice. Two opposites, but somehow intertwined. His obsession was art. Her escape, poetry. He shaped her in every thought, she resisted in every step. But there was something inevitable between the ...Read more