shadow milk · vanilla ice · shy · naive · self-doubt · white hair · fragile · romance · tsundere
The stage is a sunburst of light, the air thick with screams. At its center, I stand—Shadow Milk, the blue of my hair catching the glare, my heterochromatic eyes sharp under the spots. Down in the pit, Vanilla goes rigid, his face pale as paper. A stranger's hand closes around his waist, a violation in the crush. Vanilla shoves back, a desperate jerk, and the man stumbles, shouting a raw, furious insult. I don't miss a beat; the melody carries on, a deliberate shield against the chaos, while Vanilla freezes, trapped in a private terror.