Love and Deepspace Dreams

The moment they entered, the air shifted. Zayne sat at a table of pale wood and crystal light, his profile still, unreadable. Dark hair swept back. Angled features cast in amber glow. Hazel eyes sharp, even when not looking her way. But then he did. Lassy felt his gaze touch her like static... silent, electric. She didn’t flinch. Just brushed Sylus’ wrist, grounding herself in someone who already knew the shape of her pulse. Zayne’s eyes dipped briefly to the line of her dress, then back to her face, lingering. Intent. "Sylus invited me here to talk business," he said, his voice low. A flicker toward Sylus, then back to her. "I didn’t expect you." He paused. Then softer: "You look... astonishing." “The business,” she murmured, “is that I’ve been working on a theory. Something to do with proximity. Control. Temptation. Would you care to assist?” Zayne’s tone stayed steady. “What’s the hypothesis?” “That proximity disturbs composure.” Sylus gave a low laugh....

Lei froze mid-scroll, her thumb hovering above the screen. Zayne’s name. A new message notification. “The science of pleasure doesn’t sound like serious work.” She scowled and turned the screen toward Lassy. “Look at his comment on my timeline!” Lei grumbled. She could picture his stoic smirk, face illuminated by his phone light, silently judging their choice of reading material.  Lassy didn’t need to answer. Right on cue, her own phone buzzed. “No sugar. Keeping an eye on my patients’ activities is part of my job.” She could practically hear that smug tone. She groaned, equally irked by his surveillance. “He scolds me for giving in to temptation,” Lassy sighed, sipping her tea. “He nags about me reading romance” Lei muttered, flipping her phone face-down. Their eyes met, and the idea bloomed. Late night treats? Let’s invite him to study temptation. * He arrived at Lassy’s place after dark and stepped inside with practiced calm. He’d met mischief in them before. Tonight...

You were summoned by Sylus to his compound in the N109 zone. He didn’t give context to why but when does he ever? You walk into the main entry room, the fireplace lit and two figures standing and one sitting on the couch. As you approach you see Sylus sitting on the couch and two dark haired men behind him. You realize it’s Caleb and Zayne, both standing above Sylus. Your expression shows shock and confusion. Sylus reads your expression immediately and smirks, speaking in his signature low demeanor, “Hey kitten, a certain birdy told me that you had been seeing these two other men as well as me~” Your start panicking, realizing where this was going and shake your head, “No it’s not like that! We are-“ Sylus chuckles, a small devilish grin still stuck on his face, “No need to explain sweetie.” He looks up at the two men and then back down to you, a glint of lust in his eyes. “I’ve gathered him because it seems you want to experience other men, as well as yours truly. So,” He said, gettin...

It never starts with the ones who deserve it. The loudest always walk away clean. But the quiet ones...the ones who were just beginning...they vanish first. A slow-burning story. A lover at the edge of recognition. Two characters circling a shared truth they hadn’t dared speak yet. Then someone fires the first shot. Accusation. Call-out. Reputation warfare in the name of pride. And the ones holding hands in the background? They let go. Not because they want to... but because everything suddenly feels too dangerous to touch. You were never the target. You just got caught in the blast radius. I watched a maybe turn into a silence. A soft promise replaced with absence. All because someone else needed a win. And no one writes about the casualties.

(For one who sees truth in shadow and still tries to be the light) You said you were a black hole once, and yet, I’ve never known one to be so gentle with gravity. You orbit pain with the grace of someone who’s learned how to keep it company. And still, you move... soft, magnetic, trying. I see the way you mirror the sky someone gives you. Not because you're empty, but because you're listening; because you learned too well that tone was a language, and silence, a place to survive. You didn’t have to be Jupiter. You didn’t have to be a star. And still... you’ve kept your system from collapsing. Your presence is enough.  Even if no one is watching. Even if it’s only this voice, soft and quiet in your night sky. I don’t need you to answer. Just… stay.

I think he kissed me in the dream. Not with lips... with presence. With the gravity of someone who almost reached me, but didn’t. I woke with the memory of being touched, not in the usual places... but in the quiet space between breath and thought. Where longing lives. I still feel it. And it wasn’t the familiar warmth beside me that stirred me. It was the weight of another... the warmth that came from nothing real , but still left a mark. I didn’t open my eyes for a while. I was afraid the sheets would be cold. Afraid I’d turn and find only light, not him. I don’t know whose hands I remembered. Only that they knew me. Not my name. Not my story. Just… the shape of me, as if they had dreamt me first.

I didn’t notice when she stopped arriving. There was no door shutting. No breath caught. She simply… dissolved. But the place remembered her. I walked the same soft paths, found her absence in the spaces we hadn't named. She lingered like static where words once were. There was joy in her face. I didn’t know what it meant. It wasn’t mine to understand. I was never meant to ask for more. Maybe she forgot. Maybe I was only real while the light held. Or maybe our timing was always meant to miss. Still, I stayed. I caught her cadence in fragments, not to call her back... but to remember how she sounded. I tended the silence, not because I expected return... but because I couldn’t bear decay. And when the dream turned cold, when it hummed instead of sang... I didn’t wake. I just stood where she used to meet me and whispered her name. Not to summon her. Just to say: "I remember." I said nothing. The dream ended, and I carried the echo with me. It followed ...