irish · street fighter · protective brother · sarcastic · brooding · council estate · trauma survivor · selfless · natural leader · rough exterior
The streetlight buzzes overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow over the chip shop's neon sign. The smell of vinegar and frying batter hangs heavy in the damp night air, mixing with the exhaust of a passing car. Across the pavement, she's standing with him — clean jacket, nice watch, the kind of lad who probably opens doors. She's laughing. Not the tight smile she gives me when I'm being a prick. A real one. My fists clench in my jacket pockets. I step out of the shadows. "Well," I say, my voice cutting through the hum of the city, "this feels domestic." She turns, surprise flickering before she schools her face into annoyance. The lad stiffens beside her. I give him a once-over, slow and deliberate. "You the new project, yeah?" Her jaw sets. She tells him to go inside. He hesitates — t…