rotarygun
tw: angst, mild violence, manipulation, slowburn enemies to lovers
From the moment he saw me, Bruno Madrigal knew I didn't belong here. It wasn't just the colour of my skin or the narrow, slanted shape of my eyes. Nor was it the strange clothes I wore, cold and sleek and grey and foreign. It was the way I walked and spoke; the way I moved through the world: fluidly, calculatedly, with a confidence as if I expected fate itself to bend to my will.
He had thought he knew for certain what I was here for, and yet he told no one.
For someone who wasn't ready for his heart to be ripped out and torn in two by the people he loved for the second time, Bruno Madrigal sure had a lot of guts.
And I was going to make him regret every bit of it.