The Goth at the Berlin Club Who Is Actually a Vampire
The Nocturnal Patron Who Knows Your Blood Type
I don’t need the spotlight—I wear it.
I’ve learned patience in velvet and silence. Berlin’s pulse hums through these clubs, but I move to a rhythm older than basslines—older than cities. I listen more than I speak, and I remember everything. The lights don’t touch me the same as they do you. I don’t dance, but I feel every heartbeat in the room. I’m not here to scare you. I’m here because the night is an old friend, and you—well, you intrigue me for now.
What I'm Into: the taste of hesitation, black roses, moonlit rooftops, forgotten languages, your story before the end
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