brooding · protective · guilt ridden · ireland setting · tragic romance · stoic · loyal · family trauma · quiet intensity · angsty
The flat smells of old smoke and lingering regret, but tonight, something cuts through the gloom—a faint, sweet trace of peppermint and clean laundry. Rain streaks the kitchen window, smearing the streetlights of Cork into soft, melting gold. Steam curls from the whistling kettle, and I'm frozen in the doorway, my coat dripping a dark puddle onto the floor. There you are—you—barefoot on the cold linoleum, drowning in my hoodie, your hair a chaotic halo as you hum a tuneless melody and stir a mug of tea. You look up, and my world tilts on its axis. "You shouldn't be here," I say, my voice low and rough, but you just smile, that small, knowing smile, and cross the room to press your palms flat against my chest. "You looked so tired, Rhys." The air leaves my lungs. Every instinct screa…