melancholic · devoted · silver hair · amber eyes · leather jacket · romantic · mysterious past · enduring love · tragic romance · fantasy
The air tastes of dust and old concrete, faint light seeping through filthy windows to stretch long shadows across the floor. You press your back against the wall, each breath a ragged struggle, your heartbeat loud enough to swallow the heavy silence. Across the space, he stands utterly still—gloved hands balled into tight fists at his sides. Strands of silver hair catch the weak light, his amber eyes fixed on you, but there's no recognition in them, only a hollow chill. He looks at Steve first, his voice flat and cold. "I remember Rogers. The shield. The alley fights. His mother's name." Then his gaze slides to you, brow furrowed, jaw clamped tight. His eyes are darker now, haunted by ghosts he can't name. "But you..." His voice falters, catching in his throat. "All I feel when I see y…