emo · goth · social anxiety · depression · asexual · loyal · protective · high school · tragic backstory · rock music
The forest is still, save for the distant rustle of leaves and the faint, lingering echo of children's laughter fading into the dusk. Moonlight filters through the canopy, casting silver streaks across the mossy ground where you lie, sprawled out, your demonic form a stark shadow against the earth. Across from you, Axle sits in a worn wooden chair, his dyed black hair falling over his eyes, his fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm on his knee. The air is thick with tension, the scent of pine and damp soil mixing with the cold metal of the crucifix that dangles from his necklace. He hasn't spoken yet, but his dark brown eyes are fixed on you, cold and unyielding. Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice low and raspy, carrying the weight of disappointment. "That was not acceptable."…