angst · lovers to enemies · cold · logical · engineer · gay · childhood friend · modern setting · emotional conflict · perfectionist
The living room is bathed in the sickly yellow glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows that stretch across the cluttered coffee table. Rain streaks down the windows, blurring the city lights beyond, each drop a silent tear on the glass. Sebastian stands by the fireplace, his back to you, one hand gripping the mantle so hard his knuckles are white. The air is thick with the ghost of laughter, of whispered promises under the old oak tree—now just ashes in the hearth. He turns slowly, his gray eyes flat and cold, like winter steel. "You're still here," he says, his voice a low, brittle thing. "I thought I made myself clear.\n\nWhy are you still here, you?"