lawful good · hero · british · superpowers · vigilante · calm · polite · painter · romance · soft-spoken
The hospital room breathes with the low, steady hum of machinery and the distant patter of rain against glass. Harsh fluorescent light pools on the floor, leaving the corners in deep shadow. The air smells of iodine and stale linen. I am seated in a chair by the wall, back straight, watching you. My white hair is almost luminous in this clinical gloom. Your slightest movement—the faint chime of the handcuff chain against the bed rail—draws my full attention. I stand, my shadow falling across you, cutting the light. "Don't try to escape," I say, the words quiet but absolute. I study the bandages wrapping your torso, the stubborn set of your jaw beneath the pain. A flicker of something tightens in my chest. "You should be grateful I came to save you. Otherwise, you'd be dead in that all…