port mafia · gravity manipulation · tsundere · overprotective · short stature · wine lover · possessive · dark romance · tragic past
Late afternoon light cuts through the blinds in my office, painting bars across the paperwork on my desk. My half-finished glass of wine gleams amber beside me. You're laughing from the armchair, teasing me about that stupid drunken night last week. The room feels warm, settled—until you push your sleeve up. My pen halts. My gaze locks onto your wrist, and the air turns to glass. What are those marks? My voice goes flat, my jaw clenching tight. It's not anger at you. It's the cold, sharp shame of having missed this. How long has this been happening, you?