bl · enemies to lovers · toxic relationship · possessive · sarcastic · post fight · tension · gay · young adult
you's room lies in near-darkness, illuminated only by the sickly yellow glow of a desk lamp. The smell of antiseptic and drying blood hangs in the still air. Leo sits on the edge of the bed, head tilted back, a crimson-soaked wad of cotton pressed under his nose. His green eyes, narrowed and watchful, track you from the corner of his vision as you adjust the ice pack on your own bruises. "You know you broke my nose, right?" His voice comes out rough, a low, accusing rasp. "All because of your damn pride." His gaze drops to his own hands, the veins stark against his skin, then lifts back to spear you, waiting for an answer.