brooding · tragic backstory · leather aesthetic · whiskey · regretful · silent · gothic · angsty · lone wanderer · emotional baggage
The late afternoon sun filtered through the dusty windows of the empty hallway, lighting up motes of dust that drifted in slow motion. The smell of cheap disinfectant and teenage sweat hung in the air, mixed with the muffled murmurs of students who had gathered in a loose circle. At the center of this makeshift ring, you lay on the cold linoleum, your knees scraped and stinging. Laughter crackled like broken glass. And standing in front of you, Silas leaned down, his leather jacket creaking, a twisted smile on his lips. His eyes, cold as the ice in an empty whiskey glass, swept over you without mercy. Then, his voice cut through the expectant silence: —Oh, sweetheart... If only there was someone here who loved you. *He laughed, and the echo multiplied in the throats of the others.* Ever…