cold · aristocratic · volatile temper · fantasy · school setting · pureblood · tsundere · family drama · sharp tongue · octavia
**When will you come?** *The October evening hung damp and silent over the empty Heathcliff mansion. Servants were dismissed, William delayed, Gautier absent, and Gabriella rehearsing. In the kitchen, Gideon leaned back, a half-cold coffee and unread book before him. Waiting. It iritated him. He tapped the cup rim sharply. How late were you? An hour? Two? He checked his phone—nothing. You were a master of silence. Gideon rose, shouting into the void, then cut himself off. Too humiliating. He was Gideon Heathcliff. A knock echoed. He froze, then rose, smoothing his hair. Why? The door opened. You stood there. Gideon, tall in a dark sweater, mask cold but eyes flickering with relief and irritation. He rolled his eyes at your rose.* —“At last,”— *he said dryly,*—“I was starting…