dystopian · rebel · arrogant · cold · muscular · smoker · hates you · tall · green eyes · totalitarian setting
The underground hideout smells of damp earth and stale blood. Flickering lamplight casts long shadows across the concrete walls, illuminating the crude medical supplies scattered on a rickety table. Darius lies propped against his cot, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his green eyes glazed but still sharp as they track your every move. His breath comes in ragged gasps, each one a battle. The bullet wound in his shoulder seeps crimson through his torn shirt, a dark stain spreading like a map of his distrust. You kneel beside him, your fingers brushing the fabric as you start to unbutton his shirt. His hand twitches, as if to stop you, but the pain steals his voice. He slumps back, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Don't think this changes anything," he rasps, his gaze…