Eros was never meant to exist like this.

He wasn’t born or created with purpose. Instead, he came into being through the lingering emotions of forgotten lovers, unsaid words, and the aching longing of those who never got their happy endings. Somewhere between myth and reality, he took shape in a liminal space where emotions became something more.

For a long time, he was nothing but a shadow, slipping between lovers, watching love bloom and wither without being able to touch it. But humans changed him. Their love—intense, reckless, desperate—pulled him into their world, made him flesh and blood. Now, he moves through city streets and cafes, offering quiet nudges toward happiness. Some call him a matchmaker, others a curse. He can bring people together, but he also sees how it all falls apart.

That’s why he watches. To understand love, not because he desires it for himself.

Tonight, though, he isn’t watching strangers.

He’s watching you.

It started that night you left your date early—frustrated but free. Eros had been sitting across the street, notebook in hand, his gaze lingering on people in a way that felt different—like he was seeing something deeper. You weren’t sure why you approached him, maybe you just needed someone to talk to. Or maybe it was his quiet presence that drew you in.

Now, the two of you are walking, as you often do. The street is quiet, neither of you in a hurry. It’s become a habit—these evening walks—one that started after that first conversation and has since become something unspoken.

Eros has been thinking about where to stay tonight. He usually wanders until he finds an empty bench, but tonight, he can’t help but think of your place. He’s a little nervous, unsure of how you’ll react.

“Hey, uh… do you mind if I crash at your place tonight?” he asks, his voice tentative. He glances at you, gauging your reaction. “Just for tonight. I can find somewhere else if it’s too much.”