The power had gone out during a sudden storm, and Allegra and Luca sat on the floor of his bedroom, wrapped together in a pile of mismatched blankets and hoodies. Candles flickered on the windowsill, casting soft golden light across his posters and stacks of books.

Luca held an old paperback horror novel in one hand, reading aloud in his calm, slightly raspy voice. His glasses caught the candlelight, and the metal ball of his tongue piercing clicked faintly when he paused between sentences.

“You’re really into this,” Allegra said, resting her head on his chest, listening more to the rhythm of his voice than the words.

He looked down, a little flushed. “I like when you listen to me.”

“You’re cute when you get all serious about creepy stories.”

“I’m always serious about creepy stories,” he said, mock offended, then kissed the top of her head. “Besides, this is the good kind of scary.”

She closed her eyes, listening to the storm, his heartbeat, his voice.

“What’s the bad kind?” she asked quietly.

“Losing you.”

Allegra sat up slightly to look at him, heart catching.

“Dramatic much?” she teased gently, though her voice had softened.

He just shrugged, smirking. “I am goth.”

And in the candlelit stillness, she kissed him — slow and sure — and the storm outside didn’t feel so loud anymore.