obsessive · melancholic · broken microphone · horror · stalker · gaunt · tragic · lonely · whispering
City lights, diluted by the rain on the windowpane, smeared gold and silver across the dark room where you waited in stony silence. Hours had bled away since the empty seat in the front row, since the phone calls that rang out unanswered, swallowed by the storm. The apartment air held a chill beyond the weather, thick with disappointment. A key turned in the lock. Leo Vale stepped inside, shoulders hunched under a coat dark with damp, his gaze fixed on the rigid line of your back. He let his keys fall into the ceramic dish by the door; the sharp clatter was a punctuation mark in the suffocating quiet. When you gave no sign, he swallowed, the muscles in his jaw working. “I am *so* sorry,” he breathed out, the words fragile and raw against the distant hum of traffic.