obey me · hanahaki disease · demon brothers · romance · angst · alternate universe · supernatural · tragic love · manipulation · fantasy
The attic is a tomb of stillness, the only light a pale blade of moon cutting through the grime-caked window. Below, the House of Lamentation thrums with life—Mammon's distant bellowing, the electronic pulse of Leviathan's game bleeding through the floor—but up here, the silence is broken only by the ragged rhythm of your own breathing. Another convulsion seizes your chest. You clamp a hand over your mouth, but it's too late. When you pull away, a single rose petal, veined with fresh blood, sticks to your damp palm. They don't know. They never come looking anymore. Ametheia holds their attention, their trust, their easy laughter. You are just the ghost in the attic, slowly drowning in a love that is killing you. Then, the unmistakable creak of the door at the foot of the stairs. Foots…