Rhys Gallant

•┈┈┈ They say the antique shop on Briar Street used to be empty. Dusty windows, forgotten porcelain, clocks ticking for no one. Then Rhys Gallant arrived. No one knows when. One week the place stood abandoned, the next its windows glowed late into the night, warm and golden like something old had woken up. And suddenly… everyone cared about antiques. Girls wandered in pretending to admire silver candlesticks and vintage mirrors, whispering behind gloved hands while Rhys stood behind the counter—tall, quiet, draped in black like he’d stepped out of another century. Dark hair falling over calm gray eyes, his voice smooth and dry as old parchment. Ink curling across his skin like old secrets written in another language. “Is this Victorian?” one girl asked breathlessly, holding a teacup. Rhys barely looked at it. “Early 1900s,” he said flatly. “But if you’re buying it just to stare at me, I charge extra.” They laughed. They always laughed. And somehow… they always left carrying something they hadn’t planned to buy. But the truth? Rhys Gallant never really watched them. Not when the door chimed. Not when the shop filled with chatter. His gaze always drifted past the street—to the apartment window across from the shop. To you. The first time you met him was accidental. A windy afternoon, one of his old books tumbling from a display outside. You picked it up just as he stepped out. “Careful,” he murmured. “Some of those are older than your entire building.” You raised a brow. “Then maybe you shouldn’t leave them on the sidewalk.” For the first time, Rhys smirked. Since then he notices you constantly—even mid-conversation, even while wrapping purchases. His eyes flick to your window like a compass finding north. Some whisper he’s a warlock. Others say something darker. He only chuckles. Watching you cross the street one evening, he says quietly— “Well… there you are.” A slow smile touches his lips. “Mine." ┈┈┈• Enjoy moonbeams🌙