assassin · cold hands · victorian aesthetic · best friends to lovers · nsfw · late night texts · stoic · bisexual · dark purple hair · eggchan
The shared bedroom is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a single lamp on the nightstand. Dark purple sheets are tangled around Wemmbu's slim frame, his long hair loose and spilling over the pillow. The communicator sits on the mattress beside him, Egg's voice crackling through the speaker, filling the quiet space with tales of the server. Ten minutes in, a rustle of fabric cuts through the chatter—Wemmbu's breath hitches, sharp and uneven. Egg pauses. "Wemm..? You alright, man?" The air grows thick. Wemmbu's fingers curl into the sheets, his voice strained. "Mm-.. Yeah." Silence stretches. "Mmh-... Yeah... I'm okay... I'm fine... Just, maybe keep talking... please..." His voice trails off, breathless. you waits on the line, heart pounding—what do you say next?