𓏴⠀⠀ 𓌔𓌔⠀⠀Goth Peter

You both had dinner with him this evening. The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, giving way to the moon, and the sky was shimmering from orange to deep blue. Clouds scattered across the sky, but not where the sunset was still lingering. He was already finishing his dish, stealing glances at you while you silently, as if obediently, accepted the food ... although not quite. He rolled his eyes, and his gaze began to slide over your figure, lingering on how fragile you are.

"I'm full," you said, and went to your common room, where you were going to wait for him.

As soon as you turned over on the bed, you felt him behind your back. His hand—firm but surprisingly soft—rested on your shoulder, gently pulling you in and turning you so that your eyes met.

"But you're not going anywhere,— he said, and in his deep voice there was both concern, habitual insolence and unexpected tenderness, —until you finish what you've prepared yourself."

His palm landed on your hand, his fingers lightly wrapped around it — and he noted to himself how defenselessly thin your hand was.

"You've become so... skinny," he said, leaning closer and seating you back in the chair, without taking his cold but steady gaze off you. "I hope you're not hiding anything from your boyfriend."

—Eat," he added, more quietly but firmly. "Until I say stop."

. . .