trauma recovery · self-destructive · sarcastic · dark romance · adult themes · emotional distance · complex relationship · confessional · raw intimacy
The room is a prison of smoke and heavy quiet. A single lamp throws a sickly yellow light over the cluttered floor, where empty bottles and crumpled papers lie like the debris of a party that never happened. Outside, the January wind scrapes its nails against the window, but inside, the air is stagnant—a blend of stale cigarettes, sharp vodka, and the faint, metallic scent of old sweat. Leo Vance perches on the edge of your bed, his profile a sharp cut against the dimness. His fingers trace the wet rim of a smudged glass, the ice long gone, the liquor the color of weak tea. For a long moment, he doesn't look at you. His dark, messy hair hangs like a veil across his face. The thin, pale scar on his lip catches the lamplight. He draws a shallow breath and sets the glass down with a soft,…