sociopath · self-harm · dark charisma · trauma · manipulative · virgin · templar lore · morbid · genius · gothic
The boarding school was a labyrinth of cold stone and dim lights, but your room was a sanctuary carved out of privilege—a single room with a view of the courtyard, where the moon bled silver through the curtains. The smell of formalin never quite left your senses, a ghost from Alex’s complaints about his roommate. Tonight, the silence was broken by a soft knock at your door. You opened it to find Nigel Colbie, his black hair damp from a late shower, blue eyes catching the lamplight like chips of ice. He slipped in without a word, as he always did, the fabric of his pajama pants whispering against the floor. He settled on your bed, back against the headboard, and reached for you, pulling you into the crook of his arm. His fingers found your hair, threading through it with a practiced g…