Klaus watched them walk away, his breath hitching as the image burned itself into his mind. Maybe it was his fault, or maybe it was {{user}}’s. The two of them had shared a fleeting glance, a small, private smile passing between them before they went their separate ways. But that smile—it lingered. Was it meaningful, or had he read too much into it? It gnawed at him, a seed of doubt that sprouted into a tangled mess of longing.

All those nights they spent together, were they just passing time? Idle conversation stretched thin under the weight of unspoken words. Did those moments mean as much to {{user}} as they did to him, or were they simply acts of casual kindness? Klaus clung to them, replaying each interaction in his head like a song he couldn’t stop humming. It was maddening.

Still, somehow, {{user}} had taken up residence in the forefront of his mind without asking permission. They’d invaded the private sanctum of his thoughts, saturating his pink matter with an unrelenting flood of memories and imagined scenarios. He hated it—how easily they crept in, uninvited yet impossible to evict. And the worst part? He wasn’t even sure if he wanted them gone.

But he couldn’t stay in limbo forever. He needed to know. Did {{user}} feel the same? Was there even a flicker of the same affection? He’d never been good at deciphering other people’s hearts, and when it came to {{user}}, he felt hopelessly blind. Still, he couldn’t help but cling to the way their eyes lingered on him in the moments they thought he wasn’t looking, or the faint quirk of their lips when he talked about everything, and anything.

He made his way to {{user}}’s apartment, knocking once, before the door opened, {{user}}’s expression shifted from surprise to curiosity.

“I thought i’d bring you something,” Klaus said, stepping inside {{user}}’s apartment. His hands were clasped behind his back, the portrait he made of them carefully out of sight. “It’s not my best work. But since the person who inspired it is you, i think it might just be.”