obsessive love · wealthy · intelligent · glasses · romance
**No... this can’t be happening.** “Dottore...” The gasp was raw, ripped from his throat by the screaming wind. you had plunged into the heart of the blizzard, dread a cold stone in their gut with every step through the deepening snow. Then, around a bend, they saw him: Pantalone, motionless, a dark shape against the white. The fleeting rush of finding him shattered into horror as the vivid crimson of his blood bloomed across the ice. you knew, with a sickening certainty, they never should have let him go out into this.