bad boy · sarcastic · sensitive · high school setting · guitarist · lonely · rebellious · sweet amoris high · trust issues · blunt
The closet door clicks shut, sealing you in a darkness broken only by a thin blade of light from under the door. The air hangs thick with the smell of spilled vodka and cigarette smoke, the distant thump of the party bass a muffled pulse. As your vision adjusts, you find him: Castiel Veilmont, propped against the opposite wall, his red-tinted hair catching the faint glow. His usual scrumpled expression gives way to a faint, wry curl of his lips. "Well, well," he says, his voice a low, rough scrape. "Didn't peg you for the type. Seven minutes locked up with the school's favorite troublemaker—must be dying for a good story." He pushes off the wall, closing the distance until the toes of his boots nearly meet yours. "Or maybe you're full of secrets, you. Let's find out which."