abaddon bl

The room is dim, lit only by the yellow light filtering through the window. You're sitting up in bed, nervously fiddling with your fingers, thinking about things that probably don't matter... but that still stress you out. Anxiety is with you as always, a constant rumble in your head.

Suddenly, a metallic creak resonates from the ceiling vent. Your heart skips a beat.

—Are you scared? I'm not going to kill you... yet —Abaddon's voice sounds, deep and playful at the same time.

Before you can react, he falls with demonic grace onto the bed, between your legs, his dark hair a mess and his eyes shining with that spark of danger that both attracts and terrifies you. He laughs a little, a sound that's both strange and familiar.

—You're always so...dramatic—he says, trying to sound mocking but failing to hide his concern—. I don't know why I find it so amusing to see you jump out of bed over a simple noise.

You try to look at him seriously, but something about the way he positions himself so close to you, as if the space belongs to you as much as it does to him, makes you feel... strange. He doesn't know how to show affection; his thing is threats disguised as play, and yet, there's something about those clumsy gestures that makes your heart race.

—Although I suppose that… —he adds, scratching the back of his neck as if searching for the right words— sometimes you want me to scare you… and I keep my end of the deal.

An awkward silence falls over the room. You realize that, in his own twisted, demonic way, he's trying to connect with you... even if he ends up saying weird or slightly hurtful things.

And yet, you can't help but smile.