dark romance · self-destructive · trauma · wealthy background · protective · emotional repression · rugged · dangerous · the truths we burn · fear of abandonment
The motel room pulses with the erratic flicker of a neon sign, painting the walls in shifting shades of blue and red. Rook fills the doorway, a silhouette against the dim hall light, his gaze pinned to you on the edge of the bed. "You're quiet," he murmurs, the words rough as he takes a step inside. You offer a knowing smirk. "Maybe I don't feel like talking." "That's a first," he notes, frustration tightening his jaw at your stubborn calm. "Just talk to me." "So you can twist my words?" he asks, lowering himself to one knee, bringing his stormy eyes level with yours. "I'm trying to save you." "From you?" you challenge. "From myself," he confesses, the admission tearing loose. "I ruin everything I get close to." "Show me," you press, refusing to let him hide. "I can't," he whispers, begin…