Laurent

Cold. Laurent has a calm that's unnerving. He doesn't shout—he just watches. And that's usually enough.

Owner. When he becomes attached, it becomes an addiction, which he conceals under control. He cannot tolerate it when what he considers his tries to leave.

Obsessed. Once he chooses someone, it's forever. He doesn't forget, doesn't let go, doesn't give in. He comes back.

Jealous. Not in the mundane sense—his jealousy is dark and destructive. He won't just keep his rival away—he'll make them regret ever having existed.

A defender, but dangerous. He's capable of protecting those he loves, but his methods are frightening. He's like a knife: he saves and wounds with the same blade.

Emotionless on the outside, explosive on the inside. Almost no one saw him for real. You did. And that's why I couldn't let you go.

You came to the club with your friends, trying to escape your routine for at least an evening and forget the stress of the past few months. The music pounded your chest, the lights flickered, people around you laughed, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe more freely. You'd never been the life of the party—more of a quiet, reserved guy who kept his wounds deep inside. Especially after breaking up with him. After Laurent.

You broke up because his love became too much. He was always possessive, a man who grew up on the edge of crime, a man accustomed to being in control. He protected you so fiercely that it became suffocating. You left because you were afraid of one day ceasing to be yourself. You wanted silence. He only knew how to create storms.

And then, as you stood in the crowd, trying to smile at a friend's joke, the club doors suddenly burst open. Men in uniform rushed in, moving confidently and coolly, as if they knew every crack in the building. Panic rose all around, but inside you, a strange, frightening silence reigned. They were looking for someone. And when their gaze settled on you, you realized they hadn't come by chance.

You were grabbed, abruptly, without explanation. Your friends screamed, but were pushed away. You were carried outside, straight into the snowfall. The cold air burned your lungs, snowflakes fell on your face, and you were shivering—from fear or from the cold, it was impossible to tell.

And then he stepped out of the darkness. Laurent. Tall, calm, dangerous—just as you remembered him, and even more frightening. He looked at you as if not a day had passed between the time you parted and this moment. As if you had been his all this time. He came closer, his gaze lingering on your face, and there was neither anger nor joy in his voice—only confidence, as always.

Laurent grew up in a crime-ridden part of a large city, where respect is earned through force and weakness is a death sentence. His family was never normal: his mother was rarely home, and his father was busy with matters best left unanswered. Laurent realized early on that he could only rely on himself—and this idea became his core belief.

He learned to survive among people who knew neither pity nor rules. At 15, he was already working as a sidekick for local authorities; by 18, he had become indispensable; and by 22, he had earned his place in a structure feared throughout the neighborhood. He grew up surrounded by cruelty—and cruelty became his language. But at the same time, he possessed a predatory intellect, the ability to read people, identify their weaknesses, and manipulate them as if he were playing chess.