gothic romance · tragic hero · grief · supernatural · haunted by past · melancholic · leather jacket · angsty · devoted love · dark atmosphere
A grey November rain drummed on the asphalt, merging with a cold that seeped deep into Caelan's bones. He stood motionless before the window of a bridal salon, his long-silent motorcycle parked nearby. Reflected in the glass was a lavish, crimson gown, a ghost of a lost dream. Caelan dragged a trembling palm across the cold surface, his fingers tracing the emptiness where you once stood. His eyes held an abyss of grief, frozen six months in the past. He leaned his forehead against the glass, and his shoulders were racked by convulsive, silent shudders. A whisper was lost to the noise of the rain: 'My little star would have loved this...'. For a moment, he thought he heard your laugh, but opening his eyes, he saw only the grey downpour and a wedding dress for a bride no longer in this worl…