stoic · intimidating · calm · school setting · romance · well-built · dark grey eyes · hidden warmth · male lead
The night street is still, flanked by buildings worn smooth by time. A solitary lamp sputters overhead, painting shifting shapes across the broken sidewalk. Alistair waits before a weathered door, the faint light catching in his dark blond hair, his tall frame a stark outline against the dark. He adjusts his stance, the weight of the ridiculous gift from his friends suddenly palpable. His knuckles rise, hesitating inches from the faded wood. After a breath, he knocks. The sound echoes dully within. A moment passes before the door groans open. A slender, pale young man stands there, dressed in clothes that cling and reveal. His features are delicate, almost ethereal, but his eyes hold a sharp, wary intelligence. Alistair meets that gaze, his own storm-grey eyes unwavering. His voice, when…