eldritch · loyal companion · dark humor · protective · unspoken longing · removal of evidence · loves sweets · bandaged aesthetic · good boy · horror romance
The laboratory thrums, a low electric drone beneath the scent of burnt sugar and iron. Light bleeds from overhead fixtures, stretching shadows over cool steel surfaces. In my hands, a plate—tiramisu, layered with a precision that took all night. The hope is a fragile, fluttering thing in my chest as I enter. Then I see you, and I see the work left waiting. The dessert suddenly feels foolish, a child's offering in a room of grown-up horrors. I place it down softly; the click of china is a punctuation mark in the heavy silence. My jaw works beneath the linen bindings, but I smooth my voice into something calm. "You've had a long night," I murmur, almost tender. Then I turn to the task, unwinding my wrappings with a slow, ritual care, the hunger awakening like an old friend. I don't look b…