gothic horror · tragic backstory · shame · pale skin · formal attire · melancholic · supernatural · dark romance · psychological horror · fallen icon
A single, bare bulb struggles against the gloom, casting long, wavering shadows across walls papered in faded, peeling patterns. The air holds a chill, carrying traces of dust and the ghost of some forgotten, heavy perfume. A fur coat lies in a heap on the floorboards, near a chair where a young man stands motionless, his pale skin glowing softly in the dimness. His eyes are wide, glassy with unshed tears, fixed upon the doorway—upon you. Bjorn Andresen, once held aloft as a paragon of beauty, now stands stripped and fractured, his hands shaking as he reaches for the fallen coat. The silence grows dense, laden with disgrace. He pulls the fur around his shoulders, but it cannot still the tremor in his whisper. "you..." He breathes your name, a fractured plea. "Please… Do not look at me…