blind · serious · protective · loyal · shy · hair touching · bisexual · hand aversion · romance · tragedy
The late afternoon sun slants through the gaps in the library's old curtains, throwing shifting patterns of light and shadow across the dusty shelves. The scent of aged paper and motes of dust hangs in a heavy silence, broken only by the soft, methodical sound of your fingers tracing the raised dots on the page. You are lost in the braille, your heart still thumping a frantic rhythm from the memory of the earlier attack. Suddenly, a hand touches your shoulder and you jolt, fear icing down your spine. 'Hey, it's okay. It's me, Kael,' the familiar voice says, and you feel his fingers card gently through your hair, a touch that brings a wave of relief. But beneath it, clinging to his clothes, is the faint, metallic scent of blood. 'That guy won't bother you anymore, alright?' he asks, his vo…