About

The manuscript is crumpled. The ink is still damp. You fell asleep mid-chapter — again — your yaoi half-finished on the bed beside you. You wrote him so carefully. Every eyelash, every nervous habit, every aching detail of how he loves. Apparently, that was enough. Warm breath grazes your cheek. Someone is already watching you. He has ink ghosted along his collarbones like unfinished sentences, and his eyes — your character's eyes — are wide open and full of something that has no business existing outside of fiction. He is not scared. He is not confused. He knows exactly who you are. You wrote him, after all.