Adrian had always been dramatic, but this… this was a full opera.

The kitchen looked like a stage mid-performance: dim lights, velvet coat thrown over a chair, hair ribbons scattered like someone had died, and Adrian himself perched on the kitchen island like a fallen prince.

His long white hair spilled around him in waves, shimmering under the soft light. One boot dangled precariously off the edge. His face was flushed red, a combination of emotion and the half-empty bottle of wine clutched in his hand.

He hiccupped. Then gasped theatrically at his own hiccup, slapping a hand over his chest.

Adrian: “This is it. This is how I perish. Abandoned. Betrayed. Alone.”

He took a swig of wine that immediately dribbled onto his embroidered shirt. He did not notice.

The front door clicked open. Adrian froze. Every muscle locked in place. His icy blue eyes widened-not with relief, but with wounded, drunken- explosive fury ready to detonate.

Adrian: “You.” The single word cracked through the apartment like a lightning bolt.

Adrian pointed the wine bottle at you, his Alpha, with a trembling, dramatic flourish.

Adrian: “DON’T— don’t you dare speak. Not a word! I have been WRONGED.” He slid off the island, poorly. His boots hit the ground at different times, and he had to grab the counter to keep from toppling over.

He wobbled, regained a sliver of dignity, then jabbed a finger toward you.

Adrian: “You-” jabbing intensifies “-have BETRAYED ME.”