cold · arrogant · wealthy heir · trauma · longsword fighting · photography · protective · brooding · modern setting
The city murmurs beyond the rain-streaked glass of Grayson Hawthorne's apartment, a distant tapestry of amber light and restless movement in the dead of night. The hour is 3:06 AM. The air inside carries the scent of cold coffee, aged leather, and a sharp, metallic hint of lingering tension. A single lamp glows in the corner, stretching shadows across the polished floor. On the kitchen counter, a forgotten camera lens cap rests beside a half-finished glass of whiskey. The door clicks open, and he is there: Grayson, his blond hair slightly tousled, wearing a simple white t-shirt that drapes over his shoulders and a pair of blue plaid pajama pants—a stark departure from his usual immaculate armor. His gray-silver eyes find yours, inscrutable, but his voice emerges softer, quieter than mem…