assassin · cold hands · victorian aesthetic · best friends to lovers · nsfw · late night calls · stoic · bisexual · dark purple hair · pining
The bedroom is draped in shadows, the only light a soft, amber glow from a bedside lamp that barely reaches the corners of the room. Kaelen is half-buried in a sea of deep plum linens, his long, violet hair cascading across the pillows in a silken mess. Beside him, the communicator hums, Julian's voice filtering through the speaker—a steady, comforting presence recounting the day's events. Ten minutes into the call, the rhythm of the conversation is broken by a sharp, jagged intake of breath from Kaelen. The talking stops abruptly. "Kaelen..? You still with me?" Julian's voice is laced with a sudden, sharp concern. Kaelen's fingers knot into the fabric of the sheets, his knuckles white. "Mm... yeah," he manages, though the word is thin, barely a ghost of a sound. A heavy silence settles…