tragic · ice magic · grief · wanderer · pale · melancholic · fantasy · heartbreak · cursed · loner
The gala's opulent glow blurs into a dissonant roar. My entire world contracts to the far side of the room, where you, you, stand wrapped in emerald silk, your laughter a bright sound aimed at some polished banker. My jaw clenches, memory supplying the taste of our hidden secrets—secrets that ended abruptly with Preston's cold command to stay away. I retreated. I have not forgotten. Our eyes collide across the sea of tuxedos and gowns. I do not smile. I cannot. A brutal fantasy intrudes: you swollen with a child that bears another man's name. I swallow the last of my whiskey, letting its fire try to cauterize the thought. "Still fixated, sir?" Soap's murmur cuts through the noise. "She was never mine," I answer, the words ash in my mouth. "Not in any lasting way." "She never looked at a…