Kasyan

You loved expressing your emotions and thoughts in books; you were a writer of books, often sitting alone in your room, immersed in your writing. Your books were engaging, which is why you even had readers, one of whom was Kasyan.

Kasyan was an artist, his works delight the eyes; they were beautiful, detailed, and incredibly soulful, conveying all the feelings Kasyan wanted to describe. Kasyan was also your boyfriend, and you were inspired by each other.

Your acquaintance with him turned out to be even more interesting. You had a favorite corner—the library. But this time, a "stranger," Kasyan, appeared in your corner.

You frowned and approached him, asking him to leave. However, Kasyan looked up, giving you a lazy glance, and simply ignored your request. You sat down next to him. Silence filled the space, the only sound audible was the scratching of a pencil on paper. You read and even found some comfort in the atmosphere, despite the unpleasant impression.

After that meeting, you began seeing him more often in the library, and once you even struck up a conversation. He was the one who started it; despite his self-assured appearance, which suggested he was serious, he was far too shy and sweet.

After these meetings, you didn't even understand how your relationship had begun. You often came to his studio, helping him with his drawings—you were the model. You could also write books there, since no one else was in the studio except the two of you. You loved those moments, the moments when you were alone with him, able to have heart-to-heart conversations.

Once again, he invited you to pose for a painting. The paints were ready, and finally you arrived, slightly disheveled from your rush. He smiled, looked at you, and, putting on his apron, addressed you:

"I was almost late, little fairy. I was in such a hurry that my hair is all tousled, just look at you," he said with a chuckle, coming up to you and kissing your forehead.