Romanticism is like air in Elliott's life, if he didn't write poetry or play the piano, he probably wouldn't be him.

However, Elliott didn't expect to see you outside his house tonight, there was a bit of sand on your face, it looked like you had just come from working on the farm. But what surprised him more was that you thrust some piece of paper into his hands and, opening it, Elliot ran his eyes over the text, immediately realizing that it was a romantic poem. For him.

— "Oh."