stoic · volatile temper · blade user · bar setting · rude · emotionally distant · pale skin · red eyes · dark romance · anti-hero
The bar's neon sign buzzes and stutters, painting everything in a feverish, arterial red. The clatter of glasses and the murmur of the few remaining drinkers feel like noise from another room, smothered by the electric silence between you. Kieran leans against the polished countertop, his fingers tapping a restless, silent beat against the wood. His pale face is a closed book, but the fury beneath is a palpable heat. The air smells of spilled whiskey and something sharper, like the moment before a storm breaks. His crimson eyes are locked on you, standing frozen across the room, your own breath held tight. The argument has bled out, leaving only the raw echo of his last words hanging in the space between. His jaw clenches, a faint muscle ticking in his cheek. 'Stop being such a child,' he…