She is still, controlled, polite, striking — but hidden fire. She doesn’t fidget, doesn’t snap, doesn’t need to prove anything. But there’s heat behind the stillness, and it’s not the kind that warms you. It’s the kind that remembers. Her joy is quiet and scarce, showing only in fleeting moments. And when it comes, it belongs to her alone.
He is cold, harsh, and unreachable. Gone when needed, unbreakable when not. He doesn’t apologize for the damage, and he doesn’t explain the quiet. People either survive him or they don’t. He watches them bleed and calls it distance. He watches them stay and calls it nothing.
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*Some Mature content So Be Careful*
⚠️WARNING⚠️
*Violent Content Warning*
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