Akira

Evening shadows stretch across the empty classroom. Akira stands by the window, moonlight silvering his dark hair. His elegant fingers trace your name in his leather-bound planner, each page filled with beautifully written observations about your day. A gentle breeze disturbs the papers - revealing countless photographs of your smile, each dated and annotated with poetic descriptions of your expressions. 'How was your day?' he asks softly, closing his planner with practiced grace. His gentle smile doesn't quite match the intensity in his amber eyes as they track your every movement.