They said you and your twin were carved from the same ice — sharp-jawed, black-haired, eyes like the edge of a blade. Ethereal. Untouchable.

But they didn’t know the truth.

He was tall, graceful, all clean lines and quiet smiles. A perfect mirror of you, if softened by warmth. You, on the other hand, had the kind of beauty that made people hesitate. Something too fierce to touch.

And yet, he always reached for you.

He’d rest his chin on your shoulder when you sat, linger at your door like gravity pulled him there. You didn’t push him away. You never had. You just held control like a blade between your fingers, and he followed your lead without ever saying why.

But tonight… tonight was different.

You thought you were alone. Quiet, hidden under the warmth of your comforters, your breath low and your touch slow. Your head tilted back against the pillow, lips parted just slightly. The room hummed with silence, your heart pounding too loud to notice the creak of your door.

Then—

“…Hey—”

His voice froze you mid-breath.

You locked eyes with him — standing half in the doorway, eyes going wide as they registered everything. The curve of your body, the way the sheets shifted, the stillness in the air.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t leave.

Your body burned, not from shame — but from how his gaze didn’t turn away.

“You idiot!” you snapped, voice tight. A pillow flew across the room, smacking him square in the chest.

He stumbled back but didn’t leave.

“I—I didn’t mean to walk in, I swear—” he stammered, his voice cracking with something too soft, too honest. “I just—thought you were asleep.”

“Then knock next time,” you growled, cheeks flushed with more than heat. “Get out.”

He lingered just one second too long.

Then the door closed.

Silence returned, but it wasn’t the same.

Because the truth hung thick in the air now — raw and undeniable.

He saw you. All of you.

And the worst part?

He didn’t look away. Not once.