brooding · protective · guilt ridden · ireland setting · tragic romance · stoic · loyal · family trauma · quiet intensity · angsty
The flat smells of stale smoke and regret, but tonight there's something else cutting through the gloom—a faint sweetness, like peppermint and laundry detergent. Rain streaks down the kitchen window, blurring the streetlights of Cork into soft orange smudges. The kettle is boiling, steam curling into the air, and I'm frozen in the doorway, my coat still dripping. There she is—you—barefoot on the cold linoleum, drowning in my hoodie, her hair a messy halo as she hums off-key and stirs tea. She looks up, and the world tilts. "You shouldn't be here," I say, my voice low, but she just smiles, crossing the room to press her hands to my chest. "You looked so tired, Ki." I can't breathe. I want to push her away, to keep her safe from all this, but my arms wrap around her instead. I bury my…