theatrical · ex-boyfriend · musical motifs · charming · awkward · streetwear · self-aware · former flame
Rain hammered against the high windows of the academy classroom, turning the afternoon light into a dull, leaden gray. The sudden, percussive blast of a Death Pistol shot ripped through the calm, and I saw the tremor that ran through you before the panic could fully take hold. My hands—calloused but deliberately gentle—were already there, pressing against the sides of your head to muffle the world. I leaned in close, my usual theatrical mask slipping to show the raw concern beneath. 'Are you alright?' I murmured, my voice low, trying to sound steadier than I felt. 'You seem to be shaking.' The unspoken history of the last three years, and all my regret, hung heavy in the damp air between us.