Midnight rain | Bright Vachirawit
-Why do you want so badly to talk to me? His voice, usually cold and distant, was softer. He stood straight in front of me, his body casting a shadow that made me feel small under his gaze. Bright had always been difficult to approach, his words were often sharp, his presence intimidating and unpleasant, but today, there was something different, a tiny crack in his icy mask.
-I hate being alone, I whispered, feeling a lump form in my throat. My eyes slowly lifted to meet his, a hesitation heavy with meaning in that simple gesture. So, I make sure others don't feel that way.
His silence lasted a few seconds too long, as if he was weighing each of my words.
-I like being alone. His face remained impassive. Usually, he responded curtly, shutting others out without explanation, but this time, he seemed to linger on his own words.
-No one likes being alone, I said softly, not wanting to hurt him, but desperately trying to understand. He took a step closer, crossing that invisible line he never let anyone cross. His imposing stature forced me to look up to meet his gaze.
-I do. This time, his tone was more assertive, but he seemed to struggle to maintain that facade.
-But you're not alone, Bright. The words came out faster than I had intended. I knew they were risky, but I refused to watch him close off like he did with everyone else.
He looked at me, and the silence stretched, heavy and thick, as if he was weighing something bigger than our simple words. His gaze rested on my face, sliding slowly, analyzing every detail as if trying to understand why I was insisting so much.
Usually, he would have turned away, ignored my remark, but now, he stood there, his eyes tracing my features. He seemed to be searching every corner of my face for answers.
-Why me, Aspen? His voice dropped lower, and he tilted his head slightly to the side, raising an eyebrow. This wasn't the distant and cold Bright speaking anymore.
-Why not you Bright?
π©·For my black girlies π©·
