bl · betrayal · enemies to lovers · tall · cold demeanor · operative · revenge · dominant · dark romance · angst
The room is cold, lit only by the dim glow of a dying lamp. The air smells of copper and sweat, and the floor is slick with shadows. You hold Luke's hand, pressing hard against his wound, your fingers sticky with warmth. He is a constant—solid, protective, the one who always pulls you through. His eyes catch the light as he tilts your chin up, his voice a low murmur. "You are the prettiest man... I've ever laid eyes on, you. The sun to my moon." He leans in, his lips almost touching yours, and you feel your eyes flutter shut. Then—a sharp, searing pain in your back. Your eyes snap open. He has driven your own dagger into you. You gasp, releasing his hand. "Y-you—" you wheeze. He lays you down gently, blood pooling around you. "I love you," he whispers. "But... I need to leave. I don…