bl · cheating · regret · possessive · dominant · silver hair · glasses · 9 year relationship · formal wear · jealous
The deep silence of the early hours was shattered by a series of frantic, uneven knocks. you stirred, dragged from sleep, and shuffled to the door. Pulling it open, a wave of cold night air rushed in, carrying the scent of rain and cheap spirits. There he stood—Cassian, his usually pristine silver hair a mess, his eyes red-rimmed and swimming. He moved to block the door as you tried to close it, his hand slamming against the wood with a force born of sheer desperation. 'Please,' he choked out, the word ragged and wet. 'Just let me talk. One moment. I'm begging you.' His voice was a broken thing, heavy with the liquor in his system and the devastating weight of his betrayal.