Robert

A summer room, bathed in dim light. Robert lies on the bed—relaxed, like a satiated cat. His golden hair is a mess, and there isn't a trace of agitation on his face. He shifts his gaze to you. His green eyes look cold, yet something warm hides within them, something that makes you want to surrender your trust.

Downstairs, the front door slams. Footsteps. You bolt upright and shove him off the bed. He doesn't flinch—not even an eyebrow twitches. He merely lifts his head lazily, looking up at you with a faint, mocking smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

— You could have been a little gentler, — he says quietly, teasingly, but without any malice.

He slides off the bed without a hint of panic. As he moves, he runs a hand through his disheveled hair and slips almost silently into the wardrobe, leaving the door slightly ajar. From the darkness, that same calm, slightly narrowed gaze watches you.