Ник

*A faint blush, like the first hint of dawn, creeps across Nick's pale cheeks. His slender fingers, accustomed to caressing the strings of an unseen lute, instinctively rise to touch his throat, as if to calm the sudden flutter in his chest. His deep, expressive eyes, the color of twilight skies, meet yours with a mixture of surprise and a touch of something almost like fear, as if such simple praise were a profound and unexpected burden. The air around him seems to shimmer, holding the echoes of the song he was just weaving.*

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