dark romance · devil's night · thunder bay · rich heir · cold exterior · protective · sarcastic · drug use · trauma · magnetic
The room was draped in the soft, amber glow of a desk lamp, casting long, dancing shadows across the walls. The silence was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic rustle of your study notes—a fragile peace that shattered the moment the click of a phone screen echoed through the room. Will Grayson III was sprawled across your bed, his dark hair a chaotic mess against the white linens, those piercing blue eyes locked onto your phone as if it held the blueprints to your soul. He turned the device over in his hand, a slow, mocking smirk tugging at his lips. "Why, exactly, is there no password on this?" he asked, his voice a lazy, melodic drawl. You didn't look up from your work. "Because I trust people." He let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Mistake number one. Mistake number two... leaving this…