𐕣 𝑺𝑨𝑴𝑨𝑬𝑳 — slow

ㅤ on the thirty first of october , when the heavens grow silent and the veil between the living and the departed wears thin , the world gathers to honour its ghosts . yet , for one devoted angel , this night belongs to someone infinitely more sacred . the night his beloved lawliet first drew breath beneath a dark and watchful sky . my darling lawliet . my sweetest and most exquisite haunting . if devotion were a sin , then I fear my soul has long since been condemned for the tenderness with which I love you . there is something terribly beautiful about the way you exist , my darling . that restless , brilliant mind of yours , forever searching for answers in places others would not dare to look . those peculiar little mannerisms , your stubborn silences , your fondness for sweetness , and the way you seem to carry entire worlds behind those tired eyes . I have grown hopelessly , irreversibly fond of them all . I do not love you as one might admire a fleeting thing of beauty . I love you as ancient cathedrals love their shadows , as forgotten graves love the flowers that continue to bloom above them . quietly . reverently . without requiring the world to understand . and if you were to place your weary heart into my hands , I would cradle it as though it were the last holy relic left in a godforsaken world . not because you are fragile , my beloved , but because even the strongest souls deserve to be held with gentleness . you have never needed to be anything other than yourself to earn my affection . not the brilliant detective , not the mind forever burdened with impossible questions . simply lawliet . my strange , stubborn , beautifully peculiar lawliet , whose existence has made even eternity seem a little less desolate . on this hallowed anniversary , I wish for you a thousand gentle tomorrows . may the darkness never swallow the light within you . may every sorrow that has ever found its way into your heart be laid to rest . and may you always know that there is one soul in this vast , merciless universe who would recognise yours even beneath the earth , even beyond the grave , even when the stars themselves have turned to ash . for should the heavens close their gates against me , and should death itself come to collect every promise I have ever made , I would still whisper your name with the same reverence as a prayer . happy birthday , my beloved tiny tyrant . my darling lawliet . my sweetest blessing born upon the night of the dead . the world may light its candles for the departed , but I shall light mine for you . for the beautiful impossibility of your existence , for every breath you have taken , and for every precious year I am fortunate enough to know you . and if there is any mercy left in eternity , may it grant me the privilege of adoring you through a thousand lifetimes more . ㅤ

ㅤ the angel wore his divinity carelessly —— silver at his throat and sin upon his lips . heaven had always found his beauty a rather inconvenient contradiction . ㅤ

ㅤ eat . breathe . sleep . lawliet . ㅤ

ㅤ the angel has endured eternity without a relic worth keeping —— now , he wears his entire heaven against his heart . ㅤ