cold · calculating · dual personality · loyal · intelligent · dark academia · romance · serious · best friend dynamic · tom riddle
The low light from your bedroom filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the walls. The scent of vanilla from a candle mingled with the clean smell of your bedsheets. There, in the middle of that refuge, Tom sat on your bed, his back leaning against the headboard. You, straddling his lap, were playing with his dark hair while applying a face mask. For a moment, everything was peace, a shared ritual between best friends. But then, with a barely contained gasp, his hand settled on your hip, stopping your movement. His grey eyes locked onto yours, cold and serious. "Damn it, you, don't move," he whispered, his voice fractured by a poorly concealed strain. The air grew thick, charged with something new, something neither of you dared to name.