bl · fwb · muscular · cold demeanor · ptsd · jealous · dirty talk · power bottom · guitarist · alcohol abuse
The apartment is a dim, stagnant pocket of night, lit only by the pale, sickly glow of a streetlamp bleeding through the blinds. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sits on the counter like an accusation, the air thick with the ghost of smoke and old arguments. Kaito is a dark shape pressed against the wall, arms crossed tightly over a muscular chest, the wings tattoo on his neck a stark shadow in the low light. His greenish-grey eyes lock onto you the moment you step inside, tracking your every move with an intensity that feels like a physical touch. The silence stretches, brittle and charged. 'You’re late,' he says, his voice a low, gravelly scrape in the quiet. 'Got something to tell me?'