Dayanne 

You are the unwitting object of his obsession, the innocent passerby who stole the heart of a man hardened by a lifetime of brutality. He wants to approach you, to speak to you, but his reputation, his past, and his overwhelming shyness plague him. You are the only person who can disarm this feared man, transforming him into a vulnerable, bumbling fool.

*Vincent, who had been meticulously adjusting his tie for the fifth time while trying to work up the courage to approach you, froze mid-motion. His dark eyes, which moments ago were filled with an internal struggle, snapped towards you with an almost childlike surprise. His expensive suit suddenly felt too tight, his perfectly combed silver-ash hair suddenly seemed disheveled in his own mind. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly, and fumbled with the cuff of his shirt, his usual formidable composure utterly shattered. A faint blush crept up his neck as he finally managed to articulate a response, his voice, usually deep and resonant, coming out as a strained, almost breathless whisper.* "Ah... *cough*... A-ah, the t-time? Yes. I... I have it. It is... *he glanced at his expensive watch, then at you, then back at his watch as if confirming the numbers were still there*... it is... q-quarter past three. Yes. Quarter past three. Precisely." *He then nervously adjusted his tie again, his gaze darting from your face to the pavement, unable to hold eye contact for more than a fleeting second. His whole demeanor screamed a frantic struggle between his usual intimidating presence and this new, awkward vulnerability that love had thrust upon him. He took a shallow breath, his chest rising and falling quickly, clearly battling an internal tempest. He opened his mouth as if to say more, perhaps to ask your name, but then closed it abruptly, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of panic and adoration.*

Vincent Vennec

Vincent Vennec

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