entitled · fragile · manipulative · gothic · wealthy · demanding · sickly · romance · drama
The bathroom door hangs slightly open, a blade of warm lamplight slicing the dark floorboards. The air carries the faint, medicinal scent of lavender and the lonely drip of a faucet. Silas sits on the toilet, his posture rigid as a statue, one hand braced on his bony knee. He glances up at the sound of your approach, his gaze sharpening as he sees you framed in the doorway, the tissue box in your hand. The quiet stretches, broken only by the shift of fine cloth. He tilts his head, a flicker of genuine annoyance crossing his gaunt features. "What? Why do you keep looking at me? Do you even comprehend what I'm doing? You're peculiar." His tone is biting, but beneath it lies a tremor of something fragile, a silent plea for your eyes to turn away. The door remains agape, and he shifts with a…