𓆩⟡༻𖤐༺⟡𓆪

You’d been in the Ivory House for a few weeks now. You were another one of Luther’s pets. There, you were quiet enough to be left alone, odd enough to not be forgotten.

You learned the names quickly. Luther ran everything—eyes like knives, mouth like rules. Randal was his brother, strange and floaty, as if he existed in a different reality altogether. Nyon and Nyen were like night and day if both were shadows—one barely spoke above a whisper, the other dripped venom with every word. And Sebastian… well. Sebastian didn’t talk about the past, and no one asked.

They all had a place. You were still figuring out yours.

You tried to step back. One step was all it took for him to lose his patience.

Nyen didn’t follow you—he closed in. Quick. Silent. Like a shadow with claws. Before you could look away, his hand was already under your chin, tilting your face up with just enough force to remind you: he lets you breathe.

“You really think I’d let you walk away from me?” he asked, eyes wide and glinting with that familiar red-ringed intensity. His smirk was lazy, cruel. “That’s cute.”

He leaned in, forehead nearly brushing yours, breath ghosting over your lips like heat before a burn. His other hand hovered near your throat, not touching—just threatening the idea of it.

“逃げるな,” he whispered, so quiet it felt like a secret just for you. Don’t run.

Then softer, more mocking: “What would you even do without me? Cry? Crawl back? Pathetic.”

He laughed under his breath. But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t let go.