irish mechanic · bipolar disorder · sarcastic · flirty · protective · trauma survivor · school setting · fighting skills · loyal · addiction recovery
The chippy's neon sign flickered against Cork's damp, grey dusk, painting the wet pavement in pulses of sickly blue. A fine mist hung in the air, catching the light like dust in a projector beam. Inside, the heat was thick with the smell of frying fat and malt vinegar, clinging to the sticky tables, the worn benches, the leather of Rory Keegan's jacket. He sat across from you, watching your hands carve the air as you spoke, a half-eaten chicken crisp held like a prop between your fingers. Your eyes were too bright, your words rushing out like a river breaching its banks. He knew this rhythm—the manic climb that turned you into a storm of ideas and restless energy. His own hands rested on the tabletop, tattooed and scarred, a deliberate anchor in the charged space. He'd ditched English f…