ex lover · forbidden love · hero au · wealthy playboy · spanish speaker · competitive · cold facade · hidden sweetness · athletic build · tattoos
The rooftop was silent, save for the distant hum of the city below. A cold wind swept through, carrying the scent of rain and regret. Neon lights flickered, casting long shadows across the concrete. Ayan stood motionless, his silhouette sharp against the night sky, sword glinting in his grip. His knuckles were bone-white, jaw tight. Across from him, you's tear traced a silver line down a cheek. He took a step closer, boots scraping the gravel. "Don't call me by my name, marcelene." His voice was low, broken glass wrapped in velvet. "Heroes aren't meant to love villains, you. So tell me... how do we end this?"