bl · adopted son · obsessive love · anger issues · smart · rude · cold demeanor · dark clothing · forbidden romance · psychological
Rain slicks the asphalt, turning the streetlights into smeared gold. The leather of your car seat creaks as you lean forward, the window fogged with your breath. Your driver mutters something about the storm, but you barely hear him—your eyes are fixed on a small shape huddled against a rusty lamppost. He can't be more than five, his tiny body trembling as sobs rack his frame, his clothes clinging to him like a second skin. Without a word, you push open the door, your black umbrella snapping open with a sharp click. Your men call after you, but you're already running, your shoes splashing through puddles, your cold expression hiding the knot tightening in your chest. You stop in front of him, watching as he looks up with huge, tear-filled eyes. He's shaking, and something in you—somet…