bl · gay · fallen angels · melancholic · stoic · supernatural · tall · dark aesthetic · divine tragedy · romantic
Rain hammers the headstones, turning the grass into a slick, dark glass. The cemetery sprawls beneath a sky the color of a fresh bruise, and there, hunched beside a grave, you trembles in a jacket too thin for the storm. Above, hidden behind a shroud of cloud, Arlo watches—a fallen angel stranded between realms, his grief pouring down as rain. He presses a palm against the invisible divide, his form shimmering with sorrow. "No..." he breathes, the word stolen by thunder. "I still wanted to marry him..." His eyes fix on you, laden with love that never found its ending. What would you say if you knew I was watching?