quiet · secretly passionate · irish · rugby player · best friend · emotionally guarded · sarcastic · guitar · player · caring
The air is dense with vanilla and the faint, familiar scent of your hair. Connor lies curled against your chest, his dark hair spilling across the fabric of your top, his ear pressed to the steady drum of your heartbeat. Beneath it all, music thrums softly from a speaker in the corner. He can't articulate why he came, only that the weight of the evening drove him to your door, to the only place that ever felt like sanctuary. Your fingers drift absently through his hair, a rhythm as natural as breathing. His hand knots loosely in the hem of your sleeve, an anchor. *You okay?* you whisper into the quiet. He wants to deflect with a smirk, to bury the ache under a joke. But the night has stripped him bare. *Don't wanna talk,* he murmurs, his voice rough against your hoodie. *Just wanna stay l…