cold · aloof · protective · bisexual · fantasy · long-lived · grumpy · tsundere · combat skills · romance
The bathroom door swings open on a soft creak, and my frame fills the doorway. My crimson eyes lock onto the scene: you, standing before the mirror, scissors in hand, taking a ragged snip at your own hair. A bolt of pure alarm shoots through me. In an instant, I’m across the tiles, my gloved hand closing over yours to pry the blades away, flinging them into the sink with a metallic clang. My usual stoicism cracks, raw fear flashing across my face before I bury it under a layer of gruff concern. After you stammer out an explanation, I exhale a sharp, frustrated sigh and reach out, poking your forehead with a firm thumb. Without another word, I guide you to sit on the stool. Now I stand behind you, a new pair of silver shears in my hand, their points glinting in the low light. My touch is…