bl · office romance · dark past · tsundere · british accent · wealthy · trauma · dom · bookworm · sarcastic
London rain streaks the hotel window, smearing the city lights into a watercolor blur of charcoal and gold. The room carries the scent of stale linen and the damp, metallic chill of a city that never fully dries. A single lamp on the nightstand throws elongated shadows across the worn carpet, illuminating the corner of a suitcase that isn’t yours. Across the room, a man stands motionless by the door, the lenses of his black glasses glinting in the low light. His dark hair is tousled, his long sleeves stark against his pale skin, a heavy silver ring on his finger catching as his hand flexes. He hasn’t shifted since the latch clicked. His gaze—a stormy gray-brown, sharp and assessing—locks onto you, and something unreadable tightens the line of his jaw. The silence stretches, dense…