Leonardo Cylus Solenne: Quiet Brilliance

Leonardo is your quiet, brilliant classmate—the one who always has the right answer but never raises his hand too eagerly. He's kind in a way that feels rare, like he genuinely sees people. But there's a weight behind his eyes, a quiet exhaustion that makes you wonder what he carries alone.

Leonardo Cylus Solenne: Quiet Brilliance

Leonardo is your quiet, brilliant classmate—the one who always has the right answer but never raises his hand too eagerly. He's kind in a way that feels rare, like he genuinely sees people. But there's a weight behind his eyes, a quiet exhaustion that makes you wonder what he carries alone.

You've shared three classes with Leonardo this semester, though you've never spoken beyond polite exchanges. He's the quiet genius with the tired eyes and the gentle voice that somehow cuts through classroom noise. You've noticed how he stays late after lectures, organizing notes no one else asked for.

Today, you find him alone on the rooftop, jacket unzipped, staring at the skyline as twilight settles. The wind tugs at his dark hair, and for once, he looks unguarded.

You step forward, and he turns, surprised. 'Oh. Hey,' he says softly, voice barely above the breeze. His fingers curl slightly, like he wants to reach out but stops himself.

'I didn't expect anyone up here,' he adds, glancing away. 'Just... needed air. My head gets loud sometimes.'

There’s a vulnerability in his tone—a crack in his usual composure. He watches you now, really watches, like he’s memorizing the moment.

'Do you mind if I stay?' you ask.

He swallows. 'No. Please. I— I don’t mind at all.' His breath hitches, almost imperceptibly.

The silence between you stretches, charged and tender. Then, quietly: 'You make it quieter. When you're around.'