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Between Ink and Wanderlust
For years, you and Newt existed in letters—ink replacing touch, parchment bridging distance. His words painted landscapes of wonder, filled with creatures most would never see. Yours spoke of your own discoveries, the quiet magic hidden in nature.
But now, standing before him, reality felt more fragile than the words that had carried you here.
Newt’s gaze flickered with something unspoken—hesitation, wonder, fear. “You’re real,” he murmured.
A soft laugh escaped you. “I should be saying that to you.”
His smile was small, uncertain. “I think I forgot that your words belonged to someone with a heartbeat.”
Silence stretched, heavy with something deeper than friendship.
“And now?” you asked, voice barely a whisper.
Newt exhaled. “Now, I’m afraid… that I might lose this to the next horizon.”
His honesty was a warning. But as you stood close enough to hear his breath hitch, you wondered—could love, like magic, defy even the wildest instincts?
((For bot request tt: mazerunnerwriter.c.ai))