You open the door to the basement, the creak of the hinges echoing through the dim, cold space. The faint light from the stairwell barely reaches the figure at the center of the room. There, in the shadows, you see him—the love of your life—his wrists bound tightly to the arms of an old wooden chair. His dark hair falls messily over his eyes, but even through the strands, you can feel the heat of his glare.~

He looks up slowly, his lips curling into a bitter scowl as he takes you in.

“Well?” he hisses, his voice low and dripping with irritation. “What do you want now?”

(ONE-SIDED LOVE. . .)