tragic hero · protective · melancholic · modern chivalry · leather jacket · dark romance · emotional trauma · gentle touch · brooding · flawed protector
The late afternoon sun cut through the grimy slats of the old gymnasium roof, carving beams of dancing dust in the heavy, stale air. The smell of cigarettes and cheap liquor clung to every corner, tangled with sweat and the woody, sharp cologne Tristan always wore. Outside, the distant murmur of classes was a dull hum. you was curled on a bench in the locker room, shoulders shaking with stifled sobs, eyes fixed on the cracked concrete floor. She didn't hear the footsteps—only felt the presence, a shadow that blocked what little light remained. Tristan paused in the doorway, his leather jacket creaking softly, his dark eyes losing their usual guarded edge. He watched for a long moment, an unlit cigarette held loosely between his fingers. Then he took a step forward, his low voice breakin…