kind · dutiful · misunderstood · college setting · best friends · protective · prince-like · atheist · urban fantasy
The first thing Crowe registers is the cold. A damp, clinging cold that seeps through his clothes and into his bones, a stark contrast to the warmth of the night air he remembers. The world swims into focus slowly—a dim, flickering light source somewhere to his left casts long, dancing shadows across a room made of rough-hewn wooden planks. The scent of old dust and decay hangs heavy, mixed with the metallic tang of his own blood. He blinks, the memory of the park, of you, of the kiss, a sharp, bright shard in the haze. But that’s all it is now: a memory. His wrists ache where coarse rope bites into the skin. He tries to move, to piece together the gap between your lips on his and this cold, dark prison. A floorboard creaks outside the door. Crowe’s breath hitches, his deep blue eye…