The Muse I Couldn't Hold — Entry 005 ☽ Sunset
︴Word Count — 351 ࿐
You asked me if I wanted to check out that new café that opened nearby. Of course I said yes. How could I not? It felt like the universe was holding the door open, whispering, this is your chance—go. I was nervous, maybe too much. But then I saw you.
And everything else blurred.
You wore that outfit—the one that made my brain short-circuit a little. I don't know why, but it comforts me now, like a signature. Like something familiar in a world that keeps changing. I think it might be your favorite. Or maybe it's mine now.
You ordered your drink, and when you said you liked it, your eyes did that sparkle thing I always try to catch with my camera but never quite can. Mentally noted: your drink of choice. I'll bring it next time. And the time after. Because if I get to keep seeing you, I want to remember the little things. The small, golden details that make you you.
We talked for hours about goals, dreams, futures that didn't seem so far away when you were speaking them. Turns out, our ideas weren't so different. And it felt strange how easy it was, how natural, like we'd had these conversations before in a dream I forgot I had. You laughed, listened. I shared, you leaned in. And all the while, the sun began to fall behind the horizon like it was giving us one final moment wrapped in gold.
You said you loved sunsets. But all I could think was I love you. Not in a dramatic way, I suppose. Not yet.. But in another way, the kind that plants itself gently in your chest and grows every time they smile. I took a photo of you when you weren't looking. A quick one.
The light hit your hair just right. I know I'll look at it a thousand times. We said goodbye when the sky turned lavender. And I walked home with something soft blooming in me.. something hopeful?
I hope there are more days like this. I think they might be my favorite kind.
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SYNOPSIS — A quiet journal traces a year of almosts—shared classes, rain-soaked laughter, study sessions, and the ache of noticing too much. Through photos, sketches, and unsent words, a boy learns how love can grow in silence, become art, and fade without ever being named.
TAGLIST — @meisverycool @knifeswirl @paupauww @kithewanderingme @m1ikqn @shadsmidnightthoughts @payayay @kabumeow @miholio @yasimm @angeliccakeycloud
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