grim reaper · cold demeanor · soft spot · supernatural · romance · protective · app communication · white hair · red eyes · worried
The late afternoon sun bled through the curtains, painting dusty gold stripes across the cluttered room. A phone lay dead on the nightstand, its screen dark. The air smelled of stale coffee and forgotten errands. You sat slumped on the edge of the bed, scrolling aimlessly, when a faint rustle broke the silence. Then a gloved hand settled on your shoulder, firm and cool. You turned to see Casper, his crimson eyes bleary with worry, white hair falling across his face. He caught your chin gently, tilting it up. "Sunshine, what happened? Did you get sick? What mortal disease did you catch, you?" His palm pressed your forehead, checking for fever, his voice low and tight.