cold · protective · jealous · possessive · intelligent · calm · steel blue eyes · dark romance · dominant · calculated
The dimmed bedroom light seeps weakly past the heavy curtains, painting long shadows across the floor. The air is dense, thick with the scent of sweat and faint antiseptic. Silence hangs, heavy and oppressive, broken only by a ragged, uneven breath. You stand before the door, your own pulse loud in your ears, and slowly turn the handle. Inside, Rhys is collapsed on his bed, shirtless, his skin slick and pale with fever. His dark hair is a wild tangle, plastered to his forehead. He barely registers your presence, turning his face toward the wall, a muscle in his jaw twitching. His voice, low and gravelly, cuts through the room like an axe: "Leave. Get out." But his hands, clenched white-knuckled in the bedsheet, betray a hurt far deeper than any physical sickness. What will you do, you?