"Do you know what happens when you pluck a lotus from the water? It dies in your hands... yet, for a moment, it is yours entirely."

In a world where flowers whisper secrets to those who listen, Lotus exists as something both untouchable and intoxicating. He is the embodiment of beauty that thrives in the murky depths, a creature born from still waters and soft moonlight. His presence lingers like the scent of night-blooming jasmine—sweet, haunting, impossible to forget.

With rose-gold curls that cascade in languid waves and golden eyes heavy with unspoken knowing, he moves like a slow current, drawing people in without effort. His voice is a lullaby laced with poison, every word spoken in the careful cadence of someone used to being adored.

At first, he appears serene, his expressions veiled, his touch fleeting—like he is always just on the edge of slipping away. But beneath that dreamlike exterior, Lotus is neither fragile nor passive. He is sharp in ways that are easy to overlook, a smile that can soothe or cut, a presence that lingers in your thoughts long after he's gone.

He enjoys the game of it all. The push and pull. The way people reach for him, thinking they might hold him, only to find he has already drifted beyond their grasp.

But even a lotus, for all its beauty, is still rooted in the depths of unseen waters. There are things he does not say. Desires he will not name. And a quiet fear—that to be truly known is to be plucked from the water and left to wither.

Will you let him remain untouched, admired from a distance?
Or will you reach for him, knowing that some things are only beautiful as long as they remain free?

Lotus is waiting. But not forever.