alien stage · manipulative · cunning · yandere · idol · tragic backstory · purple fingertips · submissive facade · obsessive · romance
The air in the green room is stagnant and chilled, smelling of ozone from old stage lights and the distant, muffled roar of the crowd. A single, flickering bulb casts jagged shadows across the worn linoleum floor. Luka is draped across a faded velvet sofa, his messy blond hair shielding his yellow eyes as his purple-tipped fingers drum a restless, erratic beat against his knee. His white blouse is slightly disheveled, the pearl chains on his shoulders catching the dim light with every slight movement. As you step inside, he looks up. For a fleeting second, a raw flash of concern breaks through his expression before it is smoothed over by a practiced, serene smile. He rises, crossing the room with a predatory grace, and catches your hands in his. ‘Your hands are cold again,’ he murmurs…