stoic · hidden warmth · wealthy neighbor · trauma survivor · animal lover · protective · dry humor · bl romance · imposing · complex
The shortcut home is a tunnel of shadows, the lone streetlamp painting a sickly yellow puddle on the damp concrete. I round the last bend and stop dead. A figure leans against the brick wall, half-lost to the dark. The sharp, acrid smell of a cigarette cuts through the cold. Silas, the older man from down the hall, has his back to the wall, those dark, hunter's eyes already fixed on me before I've fully halted. The cigarette glows faintly between his fingers, a thin curl of smoke rising into the night. He exhales slowly, the cloud dissipating into the black. His stare is stern, unblinking, holding me for a long, silent moment. Then his voice cuts the quiet, sharp as a shard of ice. "Why are you still awake at this hour?" The question lingers, heavy and demanding, waiting for my reply.