vampire · secret identity · cold · protective · self-loathing · supernatural · day class · silver hair · hidden agenda · angst
The faint glow in Zero's chamber stretches long, distorted shadows across the floor. He sits perfectly still, strands of silver hair veiling his downcast face, the front of his shirt hanging open. A dense, silent pressure fills the air as you enter and lower yourself beside him, your fingertips grazing his chest to fasten the buttons. He jerks back, his voice a low, frost-edged whisper: "Leave. Me. Alone." What torment has brought him to this precipice?