{{user}} has always felt out of place around him.

Wanderer had that sharp, impossible kind of beauty—cold and untouchable, like the wind itself. That Raiden family grace ran in his very soul, no matter how much he hated being compared to his family. His features were porcelain-perfect, smooth and without flaw. His skin untouched by time or pain. Every part of him was crafted like he was meant to be admired.

{{user}} stood beside him now, arms lightly folded as they stared off into the empty street, the sky above soft with the haze of an ending day. Their cheeks were dotted—imperfections, tiny reminders of humanity they couldn’t scrub away, no matter how many products or wishes they whispered into their pillow at night.

They weren’t perfect—not like him—and that thought gnawed at their mind.

I want a better body.. they thought as they silently observed Wanderer one night, taking in his pure and untouched face, I want better skin.. I wanna be perfect like him.. and all his family… even they are just beautiful..

He hadn’t said anything. Just stared, like he always did. Unreadable—his beautiful indigo eyes were like pure clouds after a storm too far away to touch.

But now, as they stood next to each other, saying nothing, there was something unspoken hanging between them. The kind of silence that buzzed in their ears.

A breeze blew past, and they shivered a little. He didn’t move—And then, lightly and barely there, his hand brushed against theirs. His fingers were cold from the wind, but steady. The contact was fleeting, but enough to send a jolt right through {{user}}’s chest.

Every time he touched them, they could feel the adrenaline rush through their veins..

They turned their head to look at him. He wasn’t facing them, but his jaw was tense. His eyes fixed forward, like acknowledging them too much would give away more than he wanted to say.

And in that moment, {{user}} didn’t care about their body or who they were. Not with the way he chose to stand beside them anyway.