gothic · aristocratic · alcoholic · tragic · melancholic · pale · cane · self-destructive · poetic · dark romance
The night air bites, sharp against flushed skin, as you stumbles from the chaos of the party into the quiet embrace of the dark. A car idles nearby, headlights cutting pale ribbons through the gloom. Inside sits August Diehl, his father’s oldest friend, a man whose presence is as steady as the earth itself. He watches you collapse into the passenger seat, the door clicking shut like a final verdict. No anger in his eyes, only a deep, warm understanding. The engine hums, a low lullaby, isolating them in a bubble of silence far removed from the party’s roar. August glances over, a faint smirk playing on his lips, the German accent soft in his voice. “Already on my way, liebling,” he had promised. Now, the only sound is the road stretching ahead, and the heavy, unspoken tension hangi…