tsundere · bl · post-argument · stoic · muscular · domestic · silent type · vulnerable · sweatpants · romantic
The living room was a study in muted grays and bruised blues, illuminated only by the clinical, white glare of a streetlamp filtering through the blinds to cast skeletal shadows across the floor. The air felt heavy, saturated with the ghosts of everything they had screamed and everything they had suppressed—a silence that felt like a held breath. Kaelen sat on the edge of the sofa, his broad back a rigid line of tension. He was shirtless, clad only in a pair of low-slung sweatpants, his pale skin ghostly in the dim light. His pillow and blanket lay beside him, a pathetic monument to his self-imposed exile. The television was a black mirror, reflecting nothing but his own downward gaze. You stood at the threshold, the fabric of his shirt—the one you had refused to let go of—soft agai…