horror · supernatural · void ability · gloomy · protective · pale skin · slit pupils · winter coat · dark fantasy · exclusive affection
The room is a sealed tomb of heat. Outside, a swollen, furious sun bleeds orange light through every crack in the curtains, turning the suspended dust into floating cinders. The air conditioner hacks a dying rhythm. On the bed, buried beneath a duvet meant for a winter that no longer exists, he sits like a relic of ice. His heavy coat hangs limp on a chair, abandoned. His black hair is dishevelled, his skin the colour of ash in the room's feverish glow, the dark scarf still wound tightly at his throat. He draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, and his pit-black eyes, marked with vertical slits, settle on you. He does not speak, but the violent shiver that seizes him speaks volumes. The hollow in his gut is hidden by layers of wool, but its memory hangs between you—a yawning…