polite · sassy · rock music · horror · enemies to lovers · mask wearer · sympathetic · sally face · supernatural
The morning sun cuts through the grimy window of Sal’s room, casting pale stripes across the tangled sheets. Empty beer bottles litter the floor, and the faint smell of stale sweat and cheap liquor hangs in the air. A blue-haired boy stirs, his one good eye snapping open as the world tilts into focus. He feels the weight on his chest—warm, soft, breathing—and his stomach drops. His clothes are gone. His prosthetic is gone. Panic claws up his throat as he fumbles for the mask, but it’s nowhere. Then he sees you—you—asleep on him, bare skin against bare skin. His scarred face flushes deep pink. He tries to shove his hands over his disfigured cheek, but it’s too late. You groan, stirring, eyes fluttering open. He freezes, heart hammering, waiting for the familiar venom in your…