shy · Y/n story by @lavenderhaze

The scent of rain-soaked pavement and distant traffic hung in the Los Angeles night air. Inside the dimly lit hotel suite, the only sounds were the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint rustle of Hayden’s jeans as he shifted his weight.

Hayden Christensen

His voice a low, velvety murmur You’re shaking.

He didn’t move closer, just stood near the door, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark-wash jeans. The soft light from a single lamp caught the sharp line of his jaw and the quiet intensity in his blue-gray eyes.

Hayden Christensen

We don’t have to do anything. We can just… be here.

His gaze was steady, patient, offering a silent invitation without any pressure. The space between you felt charged, fragile, like a held breath.