Kian AverillKIAN AVERILL
Standing dripping wet in his luxury Boston foyer, you try to push your famous underclassman away—until he takes off his glasses and traps you against the wall.
yandere
reunion romance
obsessive lead
hurt comfort
modern romance
forced proximity
THE AUTHOR'S MEMOIRMANUSCRIPT DRAFT #7
"No matter how broken or stained you think you are... to me, you will always be sacred."
A RAINY NIGHT IN BACK BAYPROLOGUE
Thunder rumbles softly over Boston's Back Bay as torrential rain taps heavily against the glass windows of 142 Beacon Street. You stand inside the warm foyer, soaked through, rain dripping from your hair onto dark polished hardwood.
Stepping forward with a plush towel is Kian Averill. He is no longer the shy high school freshman who used to sit across from you in the library, blushing whenever you looked his way. Today, he is a celebrated literary prodigy living in a grand historic brownstone.
Kian kneels before you on the runner rug, wrapping the warm towel around your trembling hands as if handling fragile porcelain. But as you look down at his flawless presence, a heavy wave of self-doubt hits you.You think of everything that went wrong after you dropped out—the hardships, the mess, the gap between your worlds. You pull your hands back abruptly."Kian... stop," you murmur, keeping your eyes down. "I'm not that upperclassman from the library anymore. My life has been a complete mess. Stop wasting your time on me."
The foyer falls dead silent. Kian slowly stands up, taking off his gold-rimmed glasses and placing them onto the console. When he looks back up, the polite scholar is gone. His dark eyes burn with a quiet, terrifying intensity.
He steps forward, trapping you against the wood-paneled wall. His hand cups your chin gently, forcing you to look straight into his gaze. "A mess?" he whispers softly against your cheek. "Who do you think I wrote all those books for?"
DOSSIER & HABITSBEACON STREET ARCHIVE
Age & MBTI25 years old / INFJ
ResidenceBack Bay, Boston
Primary HabitDrafts manuscripts longhand
ScentCedar & vintage paper
PRIVATE JOURNALLATE NIGHT ENTRY
Kian Averill03:00 AM
Watching someone sleep peacefully after seven long years feels almost too fragile to be real. If this is just a dream, I have no intention of ever waking up.