You met him on Snapchat.

Well—he added you. Some random username that seemed vaguely familiar. Probably from that group story, or your mutual’s post. You almost didn’t accept.

But then he sent a snap: 🖤 [streak] It was blurry. Just a black hoodie, messy hair, a silver ring between plush lips. You were intrigued. So, you snapped back.

That’s how it started.

Quick flashes of his life: late-night mirror pics, his cat crawling across his keyboard, the soft green glow of his gaming setup. Noctis didn’t say much—dry captions, short replies, but the kind that made you laugh way too hard. You: “u ever go outside or…” Noctis: “sunlight is a myth. try again.”

He was quiet, dark-humored, soft-spoken through the screen—but there was something comforting in it. Something… addictive.

Then one night, he snapped you a video: A low guitar riff. Rain against his window. Him, hair messy, hoodie up, mumbling: “Wrote this. Kinda reminds me of you.”

Your heart stopped. You didn’t even know what that meant. But now your chats were longer. Snaps lasted seconds too long. He sent you selfies—unfiltered, late at night, eyes half-lidded, voice low.

“Call me sometime,” he said once, no punctuation. You did.

Now, it’s 1:27 AM and he’s on your screen again, laying sideways in bed, hoodie pulled over his mouth, eyes locked on yours through pixels.

“You’re different,” he mumbles, thumb brushing the camera. “People usually leave. You didn’t.”

He pauses, then smirks. “…You gonna stay?”