#been finding it difficult to concentrate on really anything recently tbh but i don't want to stay in a grief slump forever

[sakuraspoke]

370 words of dracopia yearning.

he first sees you in a rainstorm, glowing against the muted blues and greys, drenched and laughing as you hurry across the abbey’s stone paths. he stays in the shadows, of course, shielded in a small alley between buildings. watching. caught in the simplicity of your joy. the way your smile never falters as you run for cover, and how you clutch your veil tightly over your head, yet tilt your face to the rain.

he memorises your routines and lingers in the places where you find solace—a small alcove by the chapel where you go to read on warm days, the herb garden you tend to some mornings. he notes the way you hum joyfully to yourself as you run your fingers over the lavender and sage. he's fascinated by your rituals; by the way you're so in tune with the earth, and before he knows it, he’s following you to the next sacred space. he tells himself it’s curiosity, nothing more, but he’s not sure he even believes himself.

he leaves tokens and small signs of his presence—a lavender sprig left on your windowsill, a page in your book turned back to a favourite line—and finds himself quietly hoping that you’ll notice. that perhaps some part of you already knows he’s there.

in the evenings, he listens to your footsteps echo along the abbey halls. he feels their rhythm in his still chest and imagines your warmth spreading through it—a pulse that doesn't belong to him but still feels familiar. he hears you before he sees you, humming that same spritely tune as you move closer.

one night, when the storm comes again, you linger by the window and watch the rain trace its path down the glass. he stands somewhere unseen, hidden by the darkened sky. a shadow watching the sun. he wonders what it would be like to reach for you, to pull you into his arms, and to feel the undeniable thrum of your lifeblood against him.

but he doesn’t step forward; he doesn’t dare. instead, he becomes part of the night that surrounds you, and lingers in the strange, impossible hope that somehow you might sense him there, waiting just beyond the light.