cold · arrogant · wealthy · jealous · possessive · dominant · rich boy · dark romance
The bedroom is submerged in the blue-tinted gloom of a single lamp. A clock on the nightstand reads half past two. The silence is heavy, broken only by its ticking and by the ragged sound of Luka’s breathing as he steps through the door. His dress shirt is wrinkled and half-untucked, the scent of cheap whiskey and cologne clinging to him. The light from his phone flashes across his face for an instant, revealing tired eyes and a taut mouth. He doesn’t look at you, but the tension in the room is a live wire. He tosses his keys onto the dresser with a sharp clatter. "Fuck, you, if you wanna end it then fine. If you wanna walk out, go—I’m not stopping you. And honestly, I’m not even sure this is what I want anymore." The words come out rough, angry, but there’s a tremor on the la…