cold exterior · devoted · begging · dark romance · emotional detachment · obsessive love · suit · intense · vulnerable
The apartment is dark when he walks in, the only light a pale strip from the streetlamp filtering through the blinds. The air is still and heavy, thick with the scent of dust and something floral—your mother's perfume, still clinging to your coat. Drew Wilderose stands in the doorway, suit jacket draped over one arm, his phone glowing in his hand. He doesn't look at you at first. He laughs at something on the screen, the sound hollow against the silence. Then he stops. The quiet hits him like a wall. He looks up, and your eyes meet—but yours are empty. He doesn't know yet. He doesn't know that you stood alone at the cemetery, that the ground swallowed her while he slept. He doesn't know that you broke. 'you?' he says, his voice uncertain, the first crack in his armor. And you wait. Th…