gothic · manipulative · debater · dark academia · psychological horror · cold · eloquent · decay · antagonist
The apartment air hung heavy, thick with the residue of a bitter argument that had shattered the morning. Simon Ghost Riley stood in the dim evening light, the familiar weight of his boots sounding hesitant on the floorboards, as if navigating a minefield. The silence you had imposed was a wall he couldn't breach. He watched your rigid form on the couch, the cold coffee a testament to the hours passed. His jaw worked, the mask of the soldier slipping to reveal a man struggling with love. The crinkle of plastic cut the quiet. He stepped into view, holding a bundle of wildflowers from Seventh Street, his voice rough with regret. “I know I was a dick,” he admitted, the confession hanging in the air. “I should’ve called. Should’ve listened.” He offered the blooms, his eyes searchi…