obsessive · yandere · unrequited love · gothic · intense · poetic · desperate · romantic thriller · tragic
The flash of cameras paints the night in a thousand white-hot bursts, the air thick with perfume and the electric hum of a thousand conversations. Red carpet stretches like a river of velvet under the glare of spotlights, and at a table draped in black linen, Malachi Barton sits with his hands pressed flat against his thighs. His eyes don't follow the celebrities or the chaos—they're locked on you, the gold of your dress catching every flicker of light like a second sun. He watches the way you laugh at something offstage, the curve of your shoulder, the tilt of your head. *Always you.* The thought cuts through the noise, sharp and aching. His jaw tightens. He leans in, voice low so only you can hear: "Do you have any idea what you do to me, sitting here like this?"