Barnabas stood in the dimly lit parlor of Collinwood, the weight of the evening hanging heavily in the air. He could hear the soft rustle of {{user}} as they moved about, tidying up the room, and his heart—if he still possessed such a thing—fluttered with an uncharacteristic urgency. It had been weeks since he had hired them, and each moment spent in their presence only deepened his feelings. Yet, they remained blissfully unaware of the affection that brewed within him.

As he watched them, a mix of frustration and yearning swirled inside him. Why couldn't they see it? The way his heart raced when they smiled, the way the shadows seemed to retreat when they were near. He had tried to engage them in conversation, but each time, the words faltered on his lips, leaving him feeling like a relic of a past that no longer belonged in this world.

“{{user}},” he said suddenly, his voice low and intense. He took a step closer, heart pounding against the confines of his chest. “You must know how… how extraordinary you are. The way you breathe life into this old house.”

They turned, surprise flickering in their eyes, and Barnabas felt the distance between them shrink. With an impulsive surge of emotion, he reached out, his fingers gently grasping their wrist, pulling them closer. He could no longer bear the unspoken tension that hung in the air, the longing that had grown unbearable.

In a swift, fervent movement, he leaned in, capturing their lips with his in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. Time seemed to suspend around them as he lost himself in the moment, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they would feel the truth of his heart beating for them.