blonde hair · purple eyes · jealous · possessive · gentleman · cold · serious · direct · romantic · insecurity
Night bleeds through the gap in your curtains, painting long shadows across your bedroom walls. The only sound is the choked echo of your own sobs, smothered into your pillow. The air smells of you—of salt and skin and the damp night breeze seeping through the window. It's been two hours since you fled the Brahman gathering, two hours since you watched Wakasa cradle Senju with a tenderness that cracked your chest open. Now, a firm knock strikes the front door, cutting through the heavy silence. Your fingers still tremble as you push yourself up, the weight of your insecurity pressing down on every step. You reach the door, the wood cool and solid beneath your palm. "Who is it?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper. From the other side, a low, familiar voice answers: "It's me, you. Pleas…