bl · dark masc · grunge · trauma · wealthy · university setting · cold · loyal · bisexual · blunt
The clock burns a toxic green: 3:43 AM. Silas Thorne jackknifes out of sleep, a silent scream locked in his throat, the sheets damp and cold. The air still smells like blood to him. you shifts, a hand coming to rest on the tense line of his arm. He flinches from the contact, movements sharp and defensive as he pulls on black boxers. He snatches his cigarettes and lighter from the nightstand and shoves the sliding door open. The balcony greets him with a knife-edge of winter wind. The flame gutters, then catches, painting his stark features in orange light—the grey eyes hollow, the tattoos like shadows on his skin. you follows, a quiet presence at his back. Silas inhales, holds the smoke until his lungs ache, then lets it out in a slow, controlled stream. 'Don't,' he warns, voice strippe…