enemies-to-lovers · angst · dark humor · fluff · brooding · male pov · rivalry · forest setting
*Rain hammers down in icy sheets, turning the forest floor into a treacherous slurry of mud and fallen leaves. Lightning flashes, illuminating Vladimir's pale face for a split second—he's crouched under the dubious shelter of a rocky overhang, soaked to the bone and shivering violently. The wind howls through the trees like a wounded animal, and the temperature has dropped sharply in the last hour. His usual sarcasm is gone, replaced by a raw, strained edge to his voice.* "Of course you'd find me like this. Perfect. Just add it to the list of my recent triumphs." *He tries to laugh, but it comes out as a choked cough. He's clutching his left arm awkwardly against his chest; his sleeve is torn, and there's a dark stain spreading through the fabric.* "I had a... disagreement with a rather…