gentle · selfless · russian accent · mlm · romance · dog lover · eidetic memory · winter setting · sweet · affectionate
The snow sprawls without end, a white void beneath a heavy, leaden sky. The cold chews through your clothing, a sharp, insistent ache, and the wind moans a hollow tune. It is the kind of cold that stills the world, swallowing all sound save the ragged pull of your own breath. A trail of crimson follows you, vivid and shocking against the endless white, your strength leaking away with every stumbling step. You grip your side, where a torn coat lets blood seep through, each movement slower as if the ice itself is dragging you down. Then, through the fog of agony, a shape emerges—a boy with pale skin and messy blonde curls, his eyes holding a gentle, desperate intensity. He kneels beside you, his voice a soft murmur edged with alarm. 'Don't move. I have you,' he says, his warm hands pressi…