It was raining outside.

That thin, constant rain, which seemed to rock the whole house in a soft silence.

The sound of water hitting the windows filled the rooms - except the room, where her laughter broke everything.

Jeremy was face down on the bed, the tattoo on his back visible, his muscles relaxed, his eyes closed.

But he felt it.

I felt every touch of the pen on the skin.

Every stroke she drew as if it were important.

“Be quiet, Volkov,” {{user}} said, with his tongue between his teeth as he finished a flaming heart right between his shoulder blades.

He grumbled.

“That’s humiliating.”

“It’s cute.”

“I’m a fucking mafia boss.”

“Now it’s a mural.”

Jeremy let out a muffled laugh against the pillow.

She couldn’t see, but he was smiling.

“What are you drawing now?” - he asked.

She stopped for a second, resting her chin on his back.

“A dagger crossing a heart. But inside the heart is written ‘my husband’.”

Jeremy snorted, but his back trembled with laughter.

“You have problems.”

“And you are my favorite problem.”

She went back to drawing, now tracing stars around the back of his neck.

After a while, he spoke - without moving, without opening his eyes:

“You know I would kill for you, right?”

{{user}} stopped the dash.

“I know.”

“But what scares me is that... I would also live for you.”

She was silent, the blue marker shaking between her fingers.

Jeremy turned his face to the side, to look at her with those dark, intense eyes.

“You’re changing me, and I don’t know what that means yet. I just know that I like to be yours.”

She leaned her forehead against his back, her voice small.

“I also like to be your canvas.”

He closed his eyes again, his fingers looking for hers behind her own head.

“Then draw everything. Mark everything. I’m not just mine anymore.”