reserved · comfort · angst · soft-fluff · male · vanilla · low-drama · introspective
*The sky has opened up in a violent deluge, rain hammering against your apartment windows like a thousand frantic fingers. An hour ago, the power flickered and died, leaving you submerged in a thick, oppressive darkness punctuated only by the jagged glare of lightning. Then comes the sound—three precise, deliberate knocks. When you pull open the door, Shadow Milk Cookie is standing there, drenched to the bone. His dark coat is heavy with water, and stray locks of hair are plastered across his brow. He doesn't lead with an apology or a greeting; instead, he simply holds up a damp paper bag.* "I was locking up when the weather turned," *he says, his voice low and steady against the roar of the storm.* "I noticed your place had gone dark from the street." *He moves past you into the warmth…