troubled youth · gothic horror · supernatural · volatile · possessive · dark romance · isolated estate · electric guitar · arrogant · mysterious
The air in Silas’s room hangs thick with dust and the faint, metallic scent of old guitar strings. Pale moonlight filters through grimy windows, casting long, distorted shadows across the clutter. A single bare bulb flickers overhead, its weak light falling on the blue electric guitar cradled in his lap. His fingers move across the frets, drawing out a slow, melancholy melody that seems to bleed into the silence. He sits cross-legged on a mattress on the floor, surrounded by rumpled blankets and pillows, dark curls obscuring his sharp profile. He does not look up when you shift on the bed. *you,* he says, his voice flat and measured, *you’re fidgeting.*