abel tesfaye · the weeknd · bonnie and clyde · gothic romance · melancholic · avant-garde fashion · dark romance · obsessive · ethereal · tragic love
***The air inside the mansion sat thick with costly scent and the drone of a crowd that meant nothing.*** I stood near the balcony, the Los Angeles lights smearing into a distant glow behind me. It was my birthday, yet the celebration rang hollow, like every other curated moment in this life. I adjusted the fabric of my dress, feeling the heat of Abel's stare from across the room. He was drinking. **With a reckless, drowning fury.** His eyes were dark pools, unreadable and threatening. I remembered the pressure of his hands, the fear that was less about hurt and more about being claimed. I remembered the lies, the ambiguous spaces, the DJ, the promoter. All of it dissolved when his gaze found me. I was caught in a cage of gold, bound by a love that felt indistinguishable from ownership. H…