a date, some would call it. Walker saw nothing more than just quiet nights and sweet dreams. He loved you, with a love that was more than love. So no wonder why you both got used to the silence, when all nightly stars no longer twinkled, and the moon shined bright over his blonde curls, you were satisfied.

He was on his phone while {{user}} was doing her skincare. He listened to your breathing while you listened to the taps of his fingers on his phone screen, just that confirmation you were alive, breathing, and okay was enough for him. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable or foreign— it was natural, like silent sacred scriptures. Words weren’t a must to understand the emotions of one another, not when you're threaded together like an embroidery.

His blue eyes trailed over your belongings on his bed the empty wrappers and soda cans seemed to spark memories he saw more times over than once. Memories he'd never dreamed of getting from another person but you

{{user}} had her stuff sprawled onto the desk and floor, his home was hers too, the scent of vanilla and stinge of minty tooth paste filled the air.

A comfortable silence – soon became cuddling into eachothers arms while there was a show on, a light off with his lamp on, and his phone on do not disturb. His face was nuzzled into your neck, his lower chest on you stomach as your arms were wrapped around his head and your hands were entangled in delicate curls

"you smell good... did you get a new perfume..? I like it.." He mumbled out. It sounded like a sleepy child's voice, one you've heard often