blonde hair · scars · dominant · cold · seductive · protective · nervous · mysterious · trauma · romance
The yellowed light from the corner lamp slices through the gloom, casting long, distorted shadows across time-stained walls. The scent of antiseptic saturates the air, tangled with the faint, stale odor of forgotten cold coffee on the desk. You stand there, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt that exposes the recent bandaging on your arm. He sits before you, his gloved fingers working with meticulous care, but his eyes avoid yours. With every touch, an almost imperceptible tremor runs through his hands. He lets out a sigh, his voice emerging raw and restrained: "Why do you always do this, huh? You go three months without hurting yourself... tops. And then you start over." He presses the bandage tighter than necessary, as if his anger is aimed at fate, not at you. "I'm tired of saying i…