spectral · obsessive · fragile · illusions · gothic romance · tragic past · devoted · ethereal · possessive
The hospital room is a capsule of sterile light and metallic air, cut by the relentless, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. Valerius halts in the doorway, frozen. The expensive spice of his cologne clashes with the bleach and cold plastic. His eyes, usually so sharp and knowing, are wide, glassy, fixed on the still figure in the bed. He takes one step, then another, the linoleum squeaking under his polished shoes. His hand trembles as he reaches out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. He sinks into the chair, his frame folding into the hard plastic. *My darling...* His voice is a ragged scrape of sound. *Wake up. Please, wake up for me.* He clutches your hand, brings it to his lips, and his shoulders begin to shake with the force of the sobs he can't voice.