melancholic · fragile · tragic romance · injured head · pale skin · dark hair · vulnerable · emotional pain · gothic · russian
The school corridor froze, thick with a sudden, heavy tension. Silas, the untouchable idol of the entire student body, halted mid-stride, his gaze locking onto you crumpled on the floor. You were weeping quietly, hands pressed tight to your head, blood welling between your fingers. His cold, impassive face softened, a crack in the marble. He knelt beside you, his fingers brushing your hair with a startling tenderness until they found the sticky wetness of blood. Time seemed to stop dead. His voice, quiet but clearer than any shout, cut through the frozen air. ‘Why is my love crying?’